


Sleepover

by justmeandmymuse



Series: Turning Points [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Hiddlesworth Fandom, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Bromance to Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, You Have Been Warned, domestic hiddlesworth, men who talk about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 72,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmeandmymuse/pseuds/justmeandmymuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Tom have had a great friendship for years, and huge admiration for each other's work. When Chris has difficulties retaining his lines for a big scene in the throne room for Thor: The Dark World, Tom is happy to invite him over and help him rehearse. </p><p>During the course of one weekend, they discover more about themselves, each other, and the depth of their feelings for each other than either man bargained for. </p><p>Will they follow through on what they discover - or will it just stay a Sleepover?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's All in the Pudding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is dedicated to coconut-and-metal who is responsible for me becoming a Hiddlesworther in the first place.

"So, how do we do this?"  
  
Chris walked into Tom's living room and turned around himself once. His jacket lapels flew open as he turned and revealed his blue shirt, making Tom grin. It just looked so carefree.  
  
"Tea first?" he asked, throwing his script on the table. "Make yourself comfortable."  
  
Chris laughed. "I should have known," he said, letting his own script join Tom's. "Have any Coke?"  
  
Tom rolled his eyes. "Yesss," he said. "You know where it is. Help yourself." He kicked off his boots and carefully set them by the door, then made his way to his kitchen on his socked feet.  
  
Chris joined him a moment later, having divested himself of boots and jacket, and easily crossed over to the fridge. He'd been in Tom's flat often enough to know his way around, and felt completely uninhibited about raiding his fridge. "This amount of healthy food in here is honestly unhealthy," he pronounced, as he took a look inside and retrieved the desired bottle. He accepted a bottle opener from Tom, who had just released it from its home in a kitchen drawer, and opened it with a satisfying hiss. "Tea, really?"  
  
"What can I say, you can't get the Brit out of the Brit." Tom filled a kettle at the tap and set it to boiling. He had to squeeze past Chris to get to his tea cabinet, and playfully shoved him aside. "Move."  
  
Chris chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "Don't get betwen the Englishman and his tea," he teased good-naturedly. As Tom was reaching for a box of Earl Grey, he swiftly retrieved the milk carton he had seen in the fridge and set it atop the counter. "Here you go."  
  
Tom gave him an appreciative glance. "I should really worry that you know how I drink my tea," he said.  
  
"No sugar, a dash of milk," Chris said, pulling himself on top of one of the bar stools by the counter. "Not rocket science."  
  
"But somewhat... attentive." Tom grinned. The kettle started to boil and he swiftly poured some hot water atop the bag of tea in his cup and topped it with some milk. "Need some more of that?" He pointed his chin at Chris' bottle.  
  
"I know where it is." Chris laughed. "Shall we get to it?"  
  
"Sure." Tom carefully carried his mug back into the living room, where he set it on the table before somewhat ungracefully falling onto his comfortable leather sofa. With a groan, he leaned into the cushioned back and closed his eyes for a moment. "That feels great."  
  
"You all right, mate?" Chris took another swig of his coke and set it on the table, as well. Glad that he had chucked off his boots, he had no qualms about sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, his socked feet up on the cushions.  
  
"Long day of stunt work," Tom said without opening his eyes. "Man, I'm tired."  
  
It was quiet for a moment from the other end. "You really don't have to do this if you're too tired," Chris said, but he sounded unconvinced. "It's my own fault I didn't learn the lines properly the first time around." Nervously, he brushed a hand through his long hair. "And those changes, man... I just can't concentrate lately. They really break my back."  
  
Tom opened one eye and looked at his friend. Chris seemed quite desolate over his current predicament. Which was why Tom had - naturally - volunteered to run his lines with Chris as many times as his on-screen-brother would need to run them. He didn't have to think twice about offering, of course he would help.  
  
 "You have a child under a year old," he said now, reaching out to pat Chris' feet reassuringly, which were resting quite close to his seating position. "No wonder you can't concentrate."  
  
"Well... yeah." Chris gave a lopsided grin. "Said child is with her mother in Spain at the moment, you should think that would help."  
  
"That's what friends are for." Tom hoisted himself into a more upright position and sipped at his tea. A sigh escaped him as the familiar taste hit his tongue, and he savored it before he said: "Are you hungry? I could order in."  
  
"That sounds great." Chris took the opportunity to rest his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment. He smiled when he heard Tom pad past him, and the older man tousled his hair as he went by. "Hey!"  
  
"Couldn't resist!" Tom called out on his way to the phone, and chuckled. The length of Chris' hair was the cause of endless amusement to him. His own ginger 'do cropped fairly short since his last movie, he had to endure a wig on a daily basis, which looked heroic but was a real pain on top of the heavy costume and under the all-too-frequent horned helmet. Chris, on the other hand, looked decidedly too handsome and comfortable with his flowing blonde hair framing his strong jaw and accentuating his blue eyes. The only way to tease him with it was to mess with it whenever the opportunity arose, because it annoyed Chris to have it redone every few moments.  
  
In a moment of Loki-esque mischievousness, Tom had once braided his dozing friend's mane into very pretty corn rows over the course of about twenty minutes (sometimes it did pay to have sisters), and then it had taken the hair department about two hours to straighten it out again, which had not been so funny, so Tom had not done it again. The thought of it alone made him grin, though, and Chris' attempts to get back at him for it had lasted about two fun-filled weeks.  
  
Ah, good times.  
  
He quickly ordered food by phone and returned to the sofa, where Chris had quite obviously dozed off, his head resting against the armrest, the rest of his impressively long body stretched out along the sofa. Tom stood and looked at the scene with a raised brow, then simply occupied the other end and stretched out alongside his friend. The doorbell would wake them when the food arrived, and since they were both so tired, nothing would be accomplished in the meantime, anyway. Quite amicable with sharing his comfortable couch with Chris, Tom turned on his side and had no trouble falling asleep.  
  
They both did not hear the bell the first time, and when it rang and rang, it was Chris who finally shot up, completely disoriented and wondering where the noise was coming from. He could see that Tom was out like a light, and went to answer the door, himself.  
  
The delivery girl came up and handed him a big styrofoam box, her eyes widening when she realized who she was delivering to. He was happy to scribble his name on the back of her receipt pad and smiled at her, and then he was carrying the box into the kitchen, past a still blissfully dozing Tom. Chris set the box on the countertop and opened it; the smells emanating from within making his mouth water. Tom had ordered Thai food, one of Chris' favorites, and he hurried to set the table by the window. It was a good thing he was so familiar with Tom's kitchen, because he managed to find napkins and a candle, and set both on the table, as well.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Tom's sleepy voice sounded from the doorjamb and made Chris look up as he was just opening the container, and he smiled. "Setting the table. I hope you don't mind?"  
  
Tom padded in, looking still very sleepy, and rubbed his left eye with the palm of his hand. "Did they come?" he asked, plopping down in one of the chairs. "This is nice."  
  
"Yes, about fifteen minutes ago. I didn't want to wake you, you looked like you needed your sleep."  
  
"Heh, yes, apparently." Tom rested his chin in both his hands and looked up adoringly at Chris. "You rock."  
  
"My pleasure." Being done setting out the containers, Chris made a quick trip to the fridge again and popped a coke out for both of them. "Here," he said, handing one to Tom. "I think you're going to need it if we are supposed to get anything done tonight."  
  
"Oh." Tom yawned and tried hiding it, which resulted in some fairly funny contortions of his face. "I suppose you're right."  
  
The next few minutes were occupied with them eating; neither one of them had been aware how very hungry they were. Predictably, Chris was hogging the beef while Tom would pick between the chicken and the vegetable toppings. Neither man minded when the other was picking bits out of their respective containers; they'd done this many times before. It was a companionable silence, one of casual familiarity and the sense of comfort that had pervaded their friendship from the first time they had met. Many days and nights shooting together, running the press gamut and generally being in each other's company had made too many words moot. Tom stuck his long legs under the table where they met Chris' and they grinned at each other as they navigated under-table space as they had so many times before.  
  
"Well," Chris finally said, leaning back with a satisfied groan. "That hit the spot." He flashed an easy smile at Tom. "Thanks, that was a great idea."  
  
"My pleasure." Tom was still picking the last pieces of lentil out of his veggie container.  
  
Chris watched him for a moment, and then said, with a hopeful undertone: "Pudding?"  
  
Tom laughed. "What makes you think I'd have any?"  
  
"I know you, mate." Under the table, Chris gave him a shove with his knee. The childlike hopefulness on his friend's face made Tom laugh even more.  
  
"I thought I had ordered some from the Thai place," Tom tried to obfuscate, raising a brow at Chris. "Was there nothing delivered?" He knew fair well he hadn't ordered anything, but he couldn't help trying to tease his friend.  
  
As expected, Chris fell for it. "No," he said earnestly. "I checked."  
  
Tom was nearly falling off his chair with laughter at this point. "Go look in the freezer," he said, wiping at his eyes as Chris immediately got up to get a good look at what Tom might harbor in the compartment in question. "And they say _I_ have a sweet tooth!" he called after his friend, still giggling.  
  
He scratched the last bit of carrot out of the container and then easily got up to join his Chris. The blond, having opened the top compartment, was easily hogging the whole front, his head stuck inside. Tom had to fit himself to Chris' back to look over his shoulder. "See something you like?"  
  
"Chocolate cookie caramel fudge?" Chris fished an ice cream container out of the compartment and turned his head, raising a brow at Tom. "Isn't that a bit too rich for your tastes?"  
  
Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I have friends who like it, so I keep some in here. It's not like it goes to waste." He reached over Chris' shoulder and retrieved a flat package for himself.  
  
Chris had not seen what was in it and caught his hand on its way back. "What's that?"  
  
Tom managed to reach around Chris' torso and pass the package into his other hand, out of Chris' reach. "My dessert?" he said cheekily and retreated.  
  
Chocolate ice cream still in hand, Chris turned. "Well, what is it?"  
  
"You have yours," Tom said, grinning over his shoulder. "I have mine."  
  
Chris looked at the container in his hand, then at his friend's retreating back, trying to decide whether to let it go or not. He simply couldn't. He closed the freezer door behind him and followed Tom over to his kitchen cabinets, where his friend fished out a plate and then opened the package to slide the contents on the dish. Before Chris could see what it was, Tom had popped it into the microwave oven and turned it on. 5 min heating time; it definitely wasn't ice cream.  
  
Tom disposed the package quickly into the bin and turned around to Chris: "You need a bowl for that?"  
  
Chris was still torn between wanting the ice cream and wanting to know whether what Tom had was better than what he had. It reminded him very much of many such tussles with his brothers, which he sometimes won, and sometimes lost. Either way, it looked like it was the only package in existence, so if Tom wanted to have it, he wouldn't give it up to Chris. He exhaled. "Yes, please."  
  
Humming, Tom retrieved the dish in question and handed it to Chris, together with a spoon. "Help yourself," he said, then passed over to the table and started collecting their dinner dishes. Chris hopped up to sit on the countertop, watching Tom go about his business, savoring the familiarity of the scene.  
  
When you were on the road as much as they were, just hanging out with an old friend for any length of time was something they both cherished. Doing so in the familiar surroundings of one of their homes was even more of a treat. And Chris had always liked how Tom's flat had not really changed that much in the time they'd known each other. The air space of a maisonette combined with really comfortable yet utterly unpretentious furniture had the air of someone who was still really grounded, and Chris liked that about Tom. Very much so. It was really easy to lose your head in the business they were in, but not Tom. If Chris was in doubt about something, Tom was a good meter to check whether his judgment was off by the hype people tried to create about him, and he hoped he was serving the same role in Tom's life.  
  
Come to think of it, they were really lucky they had hit it off so well right from the moment they had met the first time. And to think that this was the third movie they were making together; they'd really been spoiled. If Chris was honest, he hoped they'd work more together in the future, but as always, this was hardly their choice to make. So really, all you could do was savor the moments, and hope for the best.  
  
The clear "ding" from the microwave shook Chris out of his thoughts, and he finally began spooning some generous helpings of ice cream out of the container into the bowl Tom had handed him. It was a big bowl, and fitted about half the pint into it. Chris smiled to himself, thinking he might as well have spooned his treat out of the carton, but closed it neatly and hopped off the counter to bring it back to the freezer.  
  
"Will you bring back some of that vanilla ice cream?" Tom piped up behind him. Chris heard him close the dishwasher and opening the microwave oven.  
  
"Sure," he said, rooting around in the compartment until he had found it. "So..." he approached and had to smile when he saw that Tom was shielding the sweet with his body so Chris could still not see it. He handed Tom the ice cream around his left side, and peeked over the right when Tom turned. "What is that mystery dessert you're having?"  
  
"Uh-uh, Hemsworth, you're not getting any of this." Tom quickly dove to the other side, sliding the dish along the counter with him. "You wanted chocolate." He flashed a grin at the taller man over his shoulder.  
  
Chris' shoulders slumped. "Fine. Have it your way." He made a show out of looking dejected and slouched over to the table, to the merriment of the other man. Tom quickly opened the vanilla ice cream container and scooped out a generous helping, placing it carefully over his hot dessert, where it immediately began to melt.  
  
"Hmmm..." he hummed, opening a drawer for a dessert fork and a small spoon and added them to his dish. He brought back the ice cream and fished something out of the fridge door, then repaired to the table, where Chris was waiting for him with his still untouched bowl.  
  
"You have better control than I do," Tom said appreciatively. He placed a small bottle on the table. "Here, some vanilla sauce." He squeezed Chris' shoulder. "So you don't have to cry over not having my fantastic, hot, delicious..." He produced the dish with a flourish. "Yummy apple strudel." His eyes alight at the dish, he sat down and beamed at Chris. "Happy pudding," he said.  
  
Chris had to laugh. "Happy pudding indeed." He sprinkled some vanilla sauce over his desert and dug in, soon completely distracted from his own frozen treat by the sounds Tom made over his. With each spoonful, he was rolling his eyes with delight and humming with pleasure, until Chris finally said: "Mate, you sound really indecent."  
  
"Jealous?" Tom licked his spoon. "How's yours?"  
  
"Fine." He flipped another scoop into his mouth. "Thanks."  
  
Tom watched him with twinkling eyes, then forked off a second bite, topped with ice cream. He obviously debated with himself for a moment, then held it out for Chris. "Want to try?"  
  
Chris raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure you can spare some?" he asked. "I mean, really?"  
  
Tom shrugged. "If you don't want any..." he made a motion that looked like he would pull back, but Chris caught his wrist in the last possible moment and closed his mouth around the bite. It made Tom laugh, his wrist still caught in Chris' vise-like grip as the blonde closed his eyes when the treat hit his taste buds. "Hmmmm...."  
  
"Told you." He smiled. He knew Hemsworth couldn't leave a challenge unmet. Teasing him like this was more fun than was allowed. "Another?" he asked innocently.  
  
Chris raised a brow at him. "What hoops do I have to jump through this time?" he asked mildly. He pointed his spoon at Tom's desert. "That is really good."  
  
"I know! My mum found it at a delicatessen a few months back. I'd love to say my stores are full, but..." he looked sadly at the dessert. "This is the last one."  
  
Chris laughed. "You're the only guy I know who will have his heart broken over apple strudel," he said.  
  
"Very good, very delicious apple strudel," Tom corrected.  
  
"I'm tempted to say, 'It's just apple strudel', but you're right, it's very good, very delicious apple strudel," Chris conceded. "Now may I have another bite or not?"  
  
Smiling, Tom forked off another piece for his best friend.


	2. Stay

Pudding finished, they put their dishes into the washer and want back to the living room. Their scripts were still on the table, and both men fished out their respective copies. Tom's script was covered in notations and marks, many of which were simply saying: "Rewritten." Last minute changes were common, but Chris had had it really tough this time.

 "They changed the whole entire throne room scene," Chris said, flipping his script open at the right page. A slew of sides fell out, and he just caught them in his other hand. "Look at this. Awful." He shook the pages to show Tom.

 "You mean, while I am comfortably resting in the dungeon," he gave Chris a meaningful look, "my poor brother needs to re-learn lines until the bilge snipes come home."

 "You could say that." Chris swiped his hair out of his face. "Apparently, they felt this wasn't Thor-like enough. No movie without at least one father-son fight." He made a face. "I really don't want to show up on set unprepared on Monday."

 "In a scene with Anthony Hopkins? Who would?" Tom nodded. "Do you have Tony's lines? Do you want me to read them?"

 "That would be great." Chris flipped through the pages until he'd found the sides marked _Odin_. "I kind of sneaked them out under everyone's radar. I really don't want them to notice how distracted I've become."

 Tom eyed his friend, then reached over to rub his back reassuringly. "Don't worry, we'll get this. How many pages are there?"

 "Um... eight...?" It was a lot of text, and Chris knew it. The difficulty was that so much of it had just been re-written. He'd pre-learned the whole scene when he prepared for filming, of course, but the changes were so subtle in some places that he had a hard time retaining where the words had changed, or a sentence had been swapped. And there had been two or three new pages added just to give the director more choices in the editing room, so those words had to be learned from scratch. If he was completely honest, as exhausted from the week's work as he already was, this task looked more than daunting. "Thanks, mate, I really appreciate this."

 "Sure. Don't worry about it," Tom reassured him. "Do you want to take it from the top?"

 "Yeah, just a read through would be nice so I'd know where I am in the context of the story when I get lost." Chris knew that Tom had a gift when it came to reasoning himself through a script, and it was that gift that he was now counting on utilizing.

 They worked quietly for a while, just reading their respective parts to each other, then talked for a while about the context of the scene and the emotional undercurrents, which helped Chris immensely. It was easier to retain the lines when you knew what your character should be feeling at any given moment.

 "This is actually quite an improvement over the original lines," Tom commented, his legs pulled up under him. "I am a bit jealous you get to say them. They throw quite a new light on the Thor-Odin-relationship. I wish they'd do something like that for Loki and Odin, too, frankly." He flipped through the pages, flicking his eyes over his favorite parts.

 Chris had to smile at that and bumped his on-screen-brother with his shoulder. "That's very Loki of you to say," he remarked.

 "Eheheheh, yes." Tom rubbed his neck. "Now all you have to do is tell me I am imagining slights, and we're in the middle of _The Avengers_." He gave Chris a look, a bit embarrassed for being jealous of Thor's improved lines.

 "Go talk to the writer next week, I know they have an open ear for your suggestions," Chris said. "If you absolutely _want_ more work, I'm sure they'll be happy to provide it."

 "Naw, that was silly of me, I'm sorry. Loki's lines are fine." Tom yawned, trying to obfuscate. "Should we do it again, this time in character?"

 "Let's give it a try." Unconsciously, Chris took on a straighter posture as he took a deep breath to launch into his first bit as Thor. Not soon after, he was nearly falling off the sofa with laughter when Tom provided a deadpan impression of Anthony Hopkins' Odin. "Mate, you can't do that," he wheezed. "We'll never get finished."

 Tom watched his mirth with a mild expression on his face. "Are we going to this now, or not?" he asked, and provided another set of lines, with hardly any discernable difference from how Hopkins would have delivered them.

 "Oh, brother." Chris wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "I'm in for it now, aren't I?"

 Tom smiled at him, and they took it from there.

 They ran through one full scene in character, then Chris started reading them in different intonations, with Tom reacting as Odin. The scene began to come alive in both their minds, and they batted the dialogue back and forth between them until Chris noticed that he would start speaking lines freely without even having to look at the page. That was promising, and they kept at it until Chris could do two pages more or less fluently. It had gotten late over their work, and Tom had begun yawning more frequently, always shushing Chris when he asked if he needed a break.

 Finally, around 10, Chris announced he needed to use the guest bathroom, and when he came back, Tom had fallen asleep on the sofa once more, the sides draped over his chest.

 Chris stood there for a moment, just looking at his friend, taking in his peacefully sleeping form. If he was honest with himself, it had become clear to him that they wouldn't get finished with all of those pages tonight, and he wondered whether he should just tiptoe out and leave Tom to his well-earned, and probably well-needed sleep. He was really torn; knowing what would be good for Tom and knowing what would be good for him for once completely at odds with each other.

 He really needed Tom's help this time.

 He ran a hand through his hair, shifting his feet as he frantically thought what to do. He couldn't just impose on his friend, right? He knew Tom had his own little side projects that he gleefully ran while they were shooting in London; and he really didn't want to interfere with any of them. It had been his own fault, after all... He blew out an aggravated breath, really not sure what to do.

 Finally, he kneeled by the side of the sofa and gently touched Tom's knee. "Tom," he said, and when he didn't immediately react, he rubbed it a little harder. "Tom, wake up."

 He kept up the action until Tom stirred, squinting his eyes against the light and slowly coming to. "Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, did I fall asleep again? So sorry. Uh." He stretched and yawned, then shook himself awake and sat up. "I'm sorry, Chris. I shouldn't have nodded off."

 "No, I'm sorry," Chris said, his hand still on Tom's knee. He squeezed it affectionately. "Listen, I'm going to let myself out. You're clearly exhausted..."

 "Uh, what? Nonsense." Tom gave him a smile, softened by the last vestiges of sleep. "Just give me a moment." He rubbed his eyes, then shook his head, looking ahead a little brighter. "I'll have some water and then I'm ready to go."

 "Tom, really, it's fine." Chris tried to look more convinced than he was. "I know you have other things planned this weekend, and I don't want to impose."

 Tom seemed to realize that this would not just go away, and he leaned back on his hands, drawing his brows together as he regarded his friend. It was clear his thoughts were still somewhat muddled by sleep, but he did get what Chris was getting at. "You're leaving?"

 "We're not going to get through all eight pages tonight anyway," Chris said. "Thank you for helping, it was really good."

 "No," Tom said, suddenly holding on to the hand that had so far been resting on his knee, and was now about to slip away. "Stay the weekend, if you like. I really don't mind."

 The feeling of relief washing over him was ridiculous. "Like I said, I don't want to impose. I know you have plans..."

 "No, really, stay." Tom smiled at him. "It really is a rather light weekend; I'm invited to a private screening tomorrow night, and I'm going to lunch with the family on Sunday. You can come along to both, if you want to, I'm sure they'd love having you." He squeezed Chris' hand. "Otherwise I'm free, so, really..." he drew a breath, "Stay. It would be great to catch up. I've hardly seen you since the _Avengers_ tour."

 "I'd need some clothes..." Chris picked at his shirt. “And a shower.” He scrunched up his nose. Everything was back at the hotel, and having to go back to get it seemed like a huge bother.

 Tom regarded him through half-slitted eyes. "I think I have a couple of shirts that might fit," he said. "Very tightly." Then he grinned. "Or you could just go without."

 Chris laughed and raised a finger at him, but Tom didn't give him a chance to speak.

 "Really, I'll pick something out for you. Should I get the guest room bed ready? You can go use the shower if you like. Towels are in the armoire, don't hesitate to use my stuff." He yawned heartily. "I'm such a disgrace of a host right now, I'm sorry."

 "Don't worry about it." Chris rose to his feet and squeezed Tom's shoulder. "I really appreciate this, Tom. I really do."

 Tom gave him a bright-eyed smile. "My pleasure," he said. "And I really mean that. It'll be great!"

 The mood immediately shifted; since it was now clear that Chris would stay the night, and possibly, the weekend, they started to arrange the minutiae of his stay instead of worrying about him learning his lines. Chris followed Tom into his walk-in-closet, where an impressive wall of suits and shirts was counterpointed with a shelf filled with nothing but comfortable shirts, track pants and about ten different pairs of trainers.

 "The civilian outfits are in the wardrobe in the bedroom," Tom said. "Jeans and things; but I doubt they'd fit you, so you might want to dig into these." He pointed out the loose-fitting tracking pants. "There's an unopened pack of boxers over in that drawer; they should fit you. Socks and things... just take what you need."

 "I'll have a trip to the hotel tomorrow and get my things," Chris said. "This looks great for the night, thanks." He took a tee and some track pants from Tom's hands, knowing that they would make comfortable bed clothes. Tom opened the aforementioned pack of boxers and Chris picked a blue pair.

 "You can keep those when you're done with them" Tom said, and they grinned at each other. "No use giving them back."

 "Right." Chris tucked the pair under his arm. "Shower?"

 "This way." They walked back to Tom's bedroom, and Tom opened the door to the ensuite bathroom. "Towels are in here," he opened the drawer of the let-into-the-wall armoire. "There's a spare toothbrush somewhere in there; pick whatever color you like. You can keep that, too."

 "Too kind," Chris deadpanned. "I might want to keep it here in case I have another bout of being too stupid to learn my lines."

 Tom took it in stride. "Or that," he said, then slid open the door to his corner shower. "Just use what you need. There's three different shower gels and whatever extra treatment your fairy hair needs should also be there." He grinned insolently.

 Chris rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Uh-huh."

 "Lotions and things - don't know if you're too manly for that - over in that shelf."

 Chris snorted. "Too manly." He laughed. "Right."

 Tom smiled affectionately at him. "Everything clear? Should I leave you to it? Anything else you need?"

 "This looks great, thanks." It really did. "I think I got the lay of the land."

 "I'll get the guest room bed ready for you while you shower; see you in a bit." Tom patted his shoulder on the way out. "Have fun."

 "Right." Chris was still chuckling to himself when the door closed behind him with a soft _click_.

 

* * *

 

It had sounded like a reasonable plan, but when Chris came out of the bathroom, he found Tom asleep once again. This time conked out on his bed, sprawled spread-eagle on it, flat on his belly. He had changed into an adorable set of pajama bottoms and a color-fitting tee, and a set of bedclothes was neatly waiting for use by the bottom end of the bed. Apparently, he had become the victim of a case of "I'll rest here for a moment until I don't feel so sleepy", but clearly, sleep had won.

 Chris, his hair still a bit damp from his shower, and on bare feet, looked at the adorable picture before him and shook his head. "Mate, this won't work," he said to himself, using a low voice. He had no idea where Tom's guest bedroom was, and as comfortable as his friend's sofa was for a nap, he really didn't want to spend the whole night on it. He scratched his head for a moment, bewildered about the lack of choices at his disposal. The last thing he wanted was to wake Tom _again_ on his behalf; the man had done enough and really deserved his sleep.

 "Oh, for Christ's sakes," he swore under his breath. "Enough of this."

 He padded over to the master light switch and turned off the light, only the night light on Tom's bed stand remaining. He then sorted the bedclothes; there was an extra blanket that he chose for himself. Tom's bed was strewn with pillows, and even though Tom was hogging most of his impressively large bed, there was still enough space for a second person without the two ever having to touch.

 Chris' mind was set.

 "Sorry, mate," he said as he gently pushed one of Tom's arms up and out of his way. "Hope you don't mind."

 He then laid down, pulled the sheet over his body and reached over to the night light to turn it off.

 It would be fine.


	3. Rain

Tom woke in the middle of the night from the sound of rain falling. He was drowsy and it took him a moment to come to, but then he remembered that he had left the window open for a crack. He had intended to close it before he went to sleep, along with closing the blinds, which now let in the light of the street lamp just opposite his window, but for some reason, he seemed not to have done that.

Also, he was freezing.

When he came to enough to actually notice his surroundings in a somewhat coherent fashion, he realized two things: One, he was lying on top of his duvet instead of under it, which explained why he was so chilly. Two, he wasn't alone in his bed.

"Tom, what did you do now?" he murmured to himself, racking his brain about what he could possibly have done or said - which he could now clearly not remember any more - that had Hemsworth curling up in his bed, as he obviously was. The outside light was glistening off his blonde hair and threw interesting highlights over his well-shaped face. Instead of getting up to take care of the still open window, Tom found himself leaning his chin into his hand and taking the opportunity to just watch his best friend breathe, his well-muscled chest rise and fall. Chris had his own blanket slung low on his hips, leaving the really rather tightly clothed chest open to Tom's appreciative eyes.

It slowly came back to Tom that he had intended to just doze for a moment on his own bed until Chris was done taking his shower. He must have fallen asleep completely. Maybe Chris had decided he didn't want to wake him again? Either way, here he was, curled up in Tom's impressive two fifty by two fifty; plenty of room for two men over 6 feet tall. Tom didn't really mind, though he would never have suggested such a thing. But if Chris was all right with it, so was he. He was not about to wake him again.

A look at his alarm revealed that it was 3 am, and Tom gave a huge yawn. He finally padded to the window and closed it, bathing the bedroom in blessed silence. He closed the blinds, but not all the way, still fascinated by this unforeseen access to simply looking at Chris as long as he wanted to, without his friend noticing.

He slipped back into bed, this time under his duvet, in which he wrapped himself carefully. To his dismay, he realized that the light was so low now that he couldn't quite see as well, so he scooted a bit closer to his friend. Possibly triggered by the motion nearby, Chris moved, turning onto his other side, towards Tom, and the older man froze for a moment, his whole body feeling like a current had just shot through him. How embarrassing it would be to think that Chris thought that he wanted to... well, cuddle!

Tom blinked a few times, his brain in overdrive. What on earth was he doing here in the first place? Manly code suggested he had to bring as much distance between Chris and himself as the bed gave permission to. Then why was he so horribly drawn to just crawling closer?

As Chris settled and did not move for a while, his heart rate finally slowed down and he began to breathe normally again. And sure enough, he was on the path towards his friend again. He just could not stay away. It was too tempting.

He mirrored Chris' position, curled up on his side, and just looked at him. A gentle smile was playing on his lips as he beheld his friend's peaceful repose. Despite his current menacing physique, Chris was one of the sweetest and gentlest men he knew, and in his sleep, the childlike expression on his face nearly caused Tom's heart to burst with emotion.

"I really love you, you know?" he murmured affectionately, his lips curling into a fond smile. Tom found his hand reaching out to lovingly brush some of that long hair behind Chris' ear. It was so soft against his fingers. "I really missed having you around." His voice broke over that, telling him just how true that was.

Chris had been so busy with his career taking off, and his new child, and once the Avengers tour had been over, they had hardly spoken, much less seen each other. Of course, there was always the knowledge that it wouldn't be too long, that they'd be back working together in September... "just four months", they had both joked. "Are we joined at the hip or what?" And still, Tom had lost his appetite, had not eaten well, had thrown himself into the work, again, just to come back out of those four months without Chris as if he was coming out of a deep sleep, finding himself alive only now, in his best friend's presence.

The thumb brushed over Chris' cheek, and then he found himself leaning over his friend's sleeping form to place a gentle kiss in the place where his thumb had just rested. Chris smelled nicely of his shower gel, which, mixed with his own natural scent, came off completely different than it would smell on Tom. He took a deep breath, smiling, and was just on his way to withdraw, when Chris stirred, and Tom suddenly found himself enveloped by a pair of fairly muscled arms, and Chris now lying sprawled all over him.

Tom nearly died. His heart raced and he held his breath until he felt himself going bright red in the face, so he finally exhaled. Here he was, in his own bed with his best friend, pinned neatly to the mattress by his bulk, and Chris' long hair was tickling his nose. When Tom moved, trying to figure out how deeply asleep Chris really was, the other man mewled and burrowed his nose deeper into where his shoulder met his neck, his arms contracting around Tom and drawing him even closer, deepening his predicament.

Eyes wide, Tom started to giggle. He was fairly sure that his... eh... kiss had triggered this reaction, as Elsa might do the same occasionally, and of course Chris would draw her near to cuddle, but... the giggle transitioned into a full-on laugh, one that he simply couldn't contain any more. His whole body started to shake at this onslaught of mirth, to such an extent that finally, Chris was stirring, shaken awake by the laughing man he was resting on.

It took him a moment to come to, but he realized soon enough that he was lying atop Tom and he blinked a few times in confusion at his awfully mirthful friend. "What the hell?" he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "What's so funny?"

Tom was just shaking his head while laughing even harder. Chris wasn't shooting up and out of bed in confusion and horror, that was a good start. Relief was flushing through Tom's body, and mixed with the heady sensation of having another body stacked on his, it made him even gigglier than he would usually be.

Chris was watching him in sleepy confusion for a moment, but then his usual sunny smile appeared on his face as he tried to figure out what had Tom so cheerful. "How'd I end up all over you?" he asked. "Not that I mind." He grinned insolently, and Tom laughed even harder. Chris watched the spectacle for a while until his wheezing friend calmed down just the littlest bit and began to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes.

Tom was still chuckling when he finally said: "I'm sorry, I was being silly." His hand found Chris' arm and rubbed his biceps affectionately.

"Silly?" Chris had still not moved an inch, and didn't seem intent to.

"I was... kinda..." Tom rolled his eyes in embarrassment, trying to find the right words. He exhaled. "I found you asleep in my bed..." he started.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You were asleep when I came out of the bathroom and I didn't want to wake you again," Chris said.

"It's fine. I should've showed you the guest room before you went..." Tom halted, gnawing on his lower lip. "Should I show you now?" His whole body, and his brain, screamed No, please stay!, but he had to offer. "Since we're both awake?"

"Why, it's just getting interesting." Chris laughed. "Unless you want to be rid of me?"

"N - No." Tom scrunched up his nose. "No." He smiled.

"Good. That's good," Chris said, patting Tom's chest. "Really, though, you're too thin, man. Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow. And none of that healthy stuff this time." He adjusted his weight so he was not lying quite atop Tom any more, but he was still tightly plastered to his side, with one arm curled around his middle. "And lots of pudding." Said arm squeezed Tom closer, and his thumb started rubbing affectionately over Tom's ribs. "So what just happened?"

"Ungh, it's embarrassing." Tom drew his brows together. Chris gave him an encouraging nod, and he exhaled. "I kind of... it's really nice having you here, Chris," he said genuinely. "We haven't really seen each other or spoken in a while. I really missed you."

"Right back atcha." Chris nodded, the squeeze around Tom's middle more pronounced. 

It made Tom smile, and he wasn't so shy any more about running his fingers over Chris' arm. Those muscles really felt as amazing as they looked. He drew a breath.

"I was just looking at you," he said, and shrugged. "And I kissed your cheek, because you looked so peaceful. I guess you thought I was Elsa, next thing I knew you were draped all over me and I couldn't move." It made Chris laugh out loud, a full-belly laugh that made Tom chuckle, as well. "Will you forgive me?"

"What, that I mistook you for my wife?" Chis grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Then he grew more serious, pinning Tom with a stare that made the other man's stomach do a backflip. "I should rather ask if you can forgive me."

Tom's heart was beating in his throat and closed it painfully. His thoughts were racing. "I... I don't mind," he finally croaked, feeling like a deer in headlights. "Really." When Chris didn't let up his inquisitive stare, he decided it was time for a full confession. He ducked his head and took a deep breath.

"Really, it's… it's nice to have someone here, who... whom I like." It felt really good to be so close to Chris, as if he represented a bulk of reassurance that he was in dire need of. "It... ungh, how do I say it... it sometimes really gets lonely just by my old self," The truth of that settled like a weight over his heart. He exhaled, coming to the really hard parts of his confession. "I... I really... I could sometimes really do with a good hug. Or two. Or someone just being there." That was more than he had confessed to anyone in a long while. "So... so I really don't mind you staying the weekend, Chris." He looked up at his friend, whose head was resting inches away from his own. "I really don't."

Chris studied him for a moment, quietly. There was a quiet understanding there, as if his heart reached out to Tom and simply enveloped him, and it felt so good. Like Tom could finally let something go that he had held on to for too long, and too hard, just because Chris... was there. 

"S'okay," Chris said. His hand slipped up from Tom's ribs to cradle his neck, as it had done a thousand times before during filming. "I understand. It's okay." He dipped his head forward until their foreheads met, and they just stayed that way, their hearts beating in unison, a rapid, elated beat. 

Tom's hand wrapped around Chris' wrist, willing him to stay where he was. "You know if you keep doing this... I'm..." He swallowed, his heart in danger of crawling out his throat. The next words came out as a harsh whisper, urgent, full of longing. "I'm going to kiss you."

"Okay." Chris' voice wasn't more coherent, either. "Yes."

Oh. "And I have no idea..." Tom laughed softly, deprecatingly. "I've never kissed a man... You're my best friend... I mean... I... I can't just... We... I'm..."

"Just shut up already." Chris bridged the distance between their mouths and pressed his lips to Tom's, his grip on Tom's neck tightening. It was inelegant and not particularly erotic, but at last, dammit, his lips were finally on Tom's. "Shut up," he whispered, his mouth opening lightly, and breathing on Tom's lips. "Just... shut up." 

Tom's lips opened for him, and he breathed into them and then kissed him, very gently, just breathing into Tom, and breathing him in, until he felt Tom relax against him. "That's better," he murmured, daring to slide his tongue against Tom's lower lip, and the resulting moan that rose from deep inside his friend turned his insides into liquid. He tried it again, and Tom's tongue rose to meet his, and they slid against each other in Tom's mouth.

Tom's eyes fluttered shut, his whole being trained on this one thing happening, this strange, wild, unplanned, unprecedented, scandalous thing This couldn't be happening, and oh god, it definitely did. It most definitely did. Chris was a damn good kisser, and Tom found his hand slipping into his friend's hair, and pulling him deeper into the kiss, as if he couldn't get enough. He couldn't get enough. He really couldn't. His hand slid down again, pulling at Chris's shirt, sliding under it, shuddering at the softness of the skin under his fingertips. With a low growl, Chris settled more of his weight on top of him, allowing him access from both sides, which he thoroughly exploited, his hands roaming the expanse of Chris' back, clawing into it when Chris kissed him deeply, messily, making his toes curl, and himself emanating sounds he had no idea he was capable of emanating.

"Take this off," Chris whispered harshly, tugging at his shirt. "Now. Please. Now."

It was impossible to explain to Chris that he would have to get off for this feat to be accomplished, so Tom kind of flipped them over, finding himself on top of his friend. Chris didn't lose a moment and simply pulled Tom's shirt off, then buried his face in the crook of Tom's neck as he held him, inhaling his scent, his whole body shaking with emotion. Tom kissed the top of his head, tears of joy suddenly rising into his eyes. 

"Now you," he said, his voice trembling. "Chris... sweetheart..." He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. "Oh, God. What am I doing...?"

"I did tell you to shut up, didn't I?" Chris' face re-appeared, his eyes glistening treacherously. "Must I always kiss you to shut you up?" He drew Tom's head down again, kissing him deeply, his lips exploring Tom's inquisitively, like he couldn't believe his luck, couldn't believe he was there, that he had found, and obtained, something so incredibly precious.

Tom's soul soared as he melted into his best friend's kisses. He tugged at Chris' shirt, up and up, until it was high enough for Chris to slip out of it, and then he just held his friend down, his eyes roaming over the feast before him.

"Oh... Chris..." His eyes feasted on the expanse of well-trained muscle before him, well-defined pecs, distinct abs, perky nipples. "You're absolutely gorgeous."

Chris laughed. "You're not so bad yourself, you know." He let a finger run down the middle of Tom's front. "I never get to see this under all that leath... augh!" He laughed into the kiss Tom was trying to muffle his argument with. "Shut up?"

Tom smiled against his lips. "Yes." And then shamelessly misused his position of power, sitting atop his friend, kissing down his neck, feasting himself on the little noises Chris made as he brought his scruff into play, licked at his clavicle while his hands ran down Chris' well-muscled arms until he reached his hands. He brought them to lie beside Chris' head, their fingers entwined, and nipped at Chris' pecs, marveling at how well-defined they were, how pronounced. He then used his flat tongue to brush over his nipples and chuckled when Chris strained upwards, momentarily breathless. He nipped and licked, then switched to the other one, until they were both slightly swollen and glistening with his spit.

"Come up. Kiss me again," Chris urged. "Please. Please, Tom. Please."

A groan wrung itself from Tom's throat at Chris's words. "You can't say things like that," he said, trying to keep his arousal in check, and failing horribly. "You can't." 

He framed Chris' face with his hands and kissed him, very sweetly, exploring the textures of his lips and tongue, dipping deeper, getting lost. He felt Chris' hands on his back, caressing him, and started humming into the kiss until the arousal made him too lightheaded to keep kissing, and he just panted helplessly, crouched over Chris, as the other man let his fingers explore his upper body, flicking his thumbs over his nipples, and caressing his stomach, coming dangerously close to the firm erection that was now tenting his pajama bottoms.

He finally caught Chris' hands and pinned them again beside his head, trying to focus enough to be able to speak coherently, which took a moment. "Chris," he said. "Where... where are we going with this?"

"Where do you want it to go?" Chris asked, eyes wide with honest curiosity. "I'm not finished yet."

Another wave of arousal washed over Tom, leaving him lightheaded. "Chris, I've never... never done this before. Didn't think I would, really."

"Me neither." Chris chuckled gently, moving Tom on top of him. "Didn't think I would, either."

"I'm not gay."

"Neither am I." Chris freed one of his hands and turned to his side, until they faced each other, Tom's eyes wide like that of an innocent child, and at the same time so dark with arousal that it was hard to make out what his original eye color was. "I just want to make love to you," he said gently, running his hand through Tom's short hair. The curls were starting to come out again, giving him a good grip. "Just you."

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Tom raised a brow and looked at him doubtfully, but one of his hands was once more mapping the plains of his abdomen, so Chris relaxed somewhat, and drew him closer until their bodies touched - and so did their plainly visible cocks, drawing a sharp hiss from both of them.

"No," Chris said. "But I guess we'll figure it out." He kissed him again, drawing him as close as was possible without actually crawling into him.

Tom's hand was slipping around his body and firmly gripped his ass, and Chris let out a decidely un-manly squawk, making Tom laugh. "I guess we will," he teased, nipping at Chris' lower lip. "That any good?" He wrapped one of his impressively long legs around Chris' ass and ground up at him. "Fuck."

"Fuck is good," Chris growled. His blood was slowly starting to get to the boiling point, this impossible man in his arms was driving him crazy. He dipped his head to nip at Tom's neck, knowing he would leave marks.

"Oh, god... Chris... I need to be at a function tomorrow..." Tom moaned helplessly. "Bite me somewhere else." They both giggled at the impossibility of the conversation.

"What if I want people to see?" Chris said, his eyes twinkling.

"Hm... right." Tom pretended to give this serious thought, his fingernails lightly scratching over the skin of Chris' back. " Fine then. Let's sell tickets to the show that is Luke's head exploding in a myriad of rainbow colored sparkles."

Chris laughed. "Might be worth it just for that," he said, chuckling, but dipped his head lower and nibbled a line along Tom's clavicle, making him squirm in his arms. "Hm..." he purred. "You taste really good."

Tom gasped, arching into Chris' teeth grazing his nipple. "Fuck."

"Hm." Not bothering with words, Chris really got into it now, curiously not at all bothered by the fact that Tom really didn't have any, well... breasts. There was hardly any mistaking his willowy frame with that of a woman, but there was a fascination in reveling in the strength he could feel under his hands, writhing against him, the long-fingered hands that were now firmly wrapped into his hair, guiding him, the way Tom's body would simply buck against him whenever he hit a really sensitive spot, of which the older man seemed to have plenty. There wasn't a word said when he started to draw his tongue down the middle of Tom's body, his hands following along, when he sucked at Tom's sternum, kissed along his ribcage and dipped his tongue into his navel. He found an absolutely delicious line of hair going down from there, disappearing into Tom's pajama bottoms, which bulged out impressively, so close to his nose that he could smell Tom's arousal. Tom went very still when he dipped down, running his nose along his erection, nudging it, his heart pounding in his ears. He did notice the change, and stopped, kissing gently along the elastic that held Tom's pajamas in place.

"Too fast?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against Tom's skin.

He could hardly see Tom nodding. "Stage fright," he said. "You're doing nothing wrong."

It was typical he would try to make him feel as if it wasn't his fault, but Chris didn't see the point in making him more uncomfortable. He slowly kissed his way up Tom's body again, drawing the occasional hiss as he reveled in the taste and texture of his skin. He straddled Tom's legs and got on all fours, deliberately brushing his cock against Tom's, feeling the other man arch up and against him, looking for contact, but not giving him too much, letting Tom set the pace. He didn't want to pressure him; his absolute nightmare was that after it was all over, Tom would jump up and lock himself into the bathroom in shame for the rest of the night.

"If you're not... if you don't want to, we don't have to do this," he said, pausing in his ministrations for a moment, suspended over Tom and looking at him earnestly. "I mean it. I'm not going anywhere if you say no." He kissed him, a very chaste kiss, but Tom drew him down again, and he could feel him smile against his lips. There was contact again as Tom arched up experimentally, pressing their cocks together. Tom's was large and hot, nearly blowing every single one of Chris' synapses as he tried to not come right then and there. "Good lord, you can't do this," Chris complained. "Or it's going to get very messy in very short order."

Tom chuckled and guided him to lie on his side again, kissing him all the while. "Lie on your stomach," he said, his voice rough with arousal. "Please."

Chris did as he was told, his cock pressing painfully into the mattress. It was hard not to start rutting into it then and there, just for the much needed friction alone. He turned his head to see what Tom was up to, and saw him slip out of his pajamas and nearly choked.

"Too fast?" Tom asked innocently, folding the pair primly and putting it aside.

Chris shook his head, and then almost died when he realized that Tom was tugging at his track pants. He lifted his hips, the waistband getting stuck at his straining cock, and he had to reach in to loosen it. Then the bed dipped, and Tom was walking away from it, and Chris was suddenly getting very nervous. "Where are you going?"

"Just getting something, don't move."


	4. This Cup of Yours Tastes Holy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All hangups in this chapter are pure fiction, I have no idea if anything like this happened to Tom, ever. Let's hope it didn't, shall we?
> 
> Also: Definitely not safe for work.

The options endless, Chris was seriously concerned by the time he heard Tom's footsteps return. The bed dipped to his right, and he heard a soft click, and then the room was illuminated in muted light. He turned his head, almost wishing he hadn't, because there was Tom, in all his glory, and good god... that was... a whole lot of glory. He gulped.  
  
He heard Tom chuckle at his reaction, and then felt him lean over him, kissing his temple. "I'm not going to stick that where the sun don't shine," he murmured in Chris' ear, making him shudder helplessly. He paused, and then added. "At least not today." Upon Chris' gasp, he laughed. "I'm kidding. Chris. I have no idea how to do that to you and to be honest, it doesn't sound very... appealing."  
  
His hand trailed lightly down Chris' spine, making him break out in goose bumps, and Tom hummed. "You're my best friend, Chris," he said, stroking him languidly. "Do you think we'll still be best friends tomorrow if we keep this up?" It was an honest question.  
  
"I don't know," Chris said, but he rolled on his side and let his fingers run along Tom's folded legs, then leaned over and kissed his knee. "Do you want me to get up and go into your guest room and sleep there? Do you want me to get dressed and call a cab and go back to my hotel? Because if you asked me to, that's what I would do." He looked up earnestly at his friend. "Tell me, and I'm out of here, and we'll never mention it again."  
  
Tom leaned over him, breathing on his ear. "Do you want to do that?" he asked, his voice incredibly seductive.  
  
"N...no." A shiver ran down Chris' spine when he felt Tom's cool fingertips touch his back, very softly. "Don't Loki me."  
  
Tom chuckled, and Chris simply turned on his back and drew him into a kiss. "No more games," he said. "Tom... no more games. Make love to me, or decide not to, but no more games."  
  
And for just one moment, as he was gazing deeply into Tom's eyes, desperate to garner some sort of guidance of how Tom really felt, he could see all his vulnerability, and all the loneliness and... and there was some sort of desperation, some sort of fear far in the back of his eyes.  
  
"What?" Chris asked urgently. "What is it?"  
  
But then it was gone, and Tom laughed, but Chris didn't have any of that. "Tell me," he said. "Tom, come on. There is something holding you back. Tell me what it is."  
  
He sat up urgently, gripping Tom's neck, making him look at him. This was so reminiscent of something Thor would do with Loki, that for just one moment, they both stared at each other, stark fear in Tom's eyes. "If it's not me, Tom, what is it?"  
  
"It's stupid." Tom's eyes filled with tears. "And it's not you. You're beautiful."  
  
"You clearly want to be with me, because otherwise you could have kicked me out a million times, I gave you all the chances in the world."  
  
"I can't be gay," Tom choked. "Just can't."  
  
"Who says you are?" Chris asked. "I mean, even if we went strictly, completely technical, all you'd be would be bisexual, and who really cares about that?" He searched Tom's eyes. "You sweet man, what has you in such a fear?"  
  
And then it just tumbled all out of Tom, how he had had a best friend at Eton, and how lonely he'd been when he just got there, and they'd slept in one bed for a while, because he would cry every night, and some other, older boys, had caught wind of it, and had made life a living hell for both Tom and his friend, teasing and harrassing them at every turn.  
  
"They ended up separating us," Tom said, "No reason given, of course. I was put into a different group, and the boys were all so tough... and they kept calling me a girl... and someone must have blabbed, because all those gay jokes started, and... and I didn't get rid of that reputation until I left." He rubbed the scar on his forehead. "Nearly cut my face off on a dare, trying to impress them," he said. "I was fucking miserable, the whole entire time."  
  
Chris did the probably most stupid thing he could think of in that moment, leaning in to kiss him softly, but was incredibly relieved when Tom responded. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm really sorry that happened to you."  
  
Tom shrugged, but leaned into Chris, and allowed him to hold him, and that seemed like a wonderful gift.  
  
"I love you," Chris whispered, relishing the feeling of naked skin on naked skin, feeling incredibly close to Tom, closer than sex could have brought them. "Even if you were gay, I would love you, and I'm the most manly man you know." It made Tom chuckle. "And if anyone says differently, I'm going to clock them on the head with my hammer, okay? Just tell me."  
  
Hearing Tom's soft laugh against the side of his face was such a relief.  
  
"I love you, too," Tom said. He let a hand slide down Chris' arm and entwined their fingers. "Quite a bit, actually. Because you are really, really beautiful. And I don't mean just that you're really cut, though I like that, too." They both smiled, knowing just how true that was. "I'd be lying if I didn't admit that. But you have a beautiful soul. Chris. And I'm really, really glad we know each other." He looked at him earnestly.  
  
"Me, too." Chris dipped his head and kissed him again, making sure he was reassuring and didn't drive anything anywhere it wasn't supposed to go. "And thank you for tonight. For... for letting me stay here, and for... for telling me. It really is... I'm feeling very honored you trust me that much."  
  
"I do." They just sat there, looking at their entwined hands, for a while, just relishing the sudden closeness.  
  
"What did you go to the bathroom for?" Chris asked after a while, placing a soft kiss on his lover's cheek bone. "Earlier, I mean?"  
  
"Hm? Oh." Tom blushed a little, which Chris found terribly endearing. "Just a few things."  
  
"Like what things?" He softly nibbled at Tom's shoulder, having a terrible time keeping his hands to himself. If Tom seriously decided he just wanted to cuddle tonight - which would be perfectly fine - Chris knew he'd desperately need some alone time in the bathroom. He knew he would simply burst if he seriously had to spend his night wrapped around this terribly tempting package, pretending he didn't want to make him come, crying out his name. The thought alone had his cock, which had decided it wasn't needed while they were talking the deep stuff, sit up and take notice.  
  
"Just a few things... I thought... if we actually... you know," he raised a brow and looked meaningfully at Chris.  
  
"Rode a horse into the sunset?" Chris said the first nonsense thing that came to mind. "Told each other ghost stories till the sun came up?"  
  
"No, silly," Tom laughed.  
  
"Tickled each other until we cried?" Chris teased, his fingers slipping to Tom's sides and making him squirm. "A-hah!" he cried out triumphantly.  
  
"Chris, Chris, stop." Tom batted at his hands, giggling uncontrollably. "I'm really ticklish there!"  
  
"Heh heh, I noticed." Chris left his arms where they were, lightly draped around Tom. "So what is that secret mission you're preparing for?"  
  
"Hah hah, very funny." Tom's eyes were twinkling with mirth. "Incasewemadelove."  
  
"What was that?" Chris pretended not to have heard him right.  
  
"In case... in case we actually made love." Tom was still blushing over it, a lovely shade of mauve.  
  
"Then..." Chris prompted, caressing Tom's beautiful hands.  
  
"Then it would probably be a sticky mess so I got us some washcloths and towels... do you think I'm too OCD about this?"  
  
"Messy sex is good, but sleeping on sheets soaked in come, not so good." Chris focused on the fact that Tom had very much planned on them having sex in the first place. "I approve." He really couldn't care less.  
  
"And I thought... look." He got on all fours and crawled to the edge of the bed, a sight that elevated Chris' heartbeat significantly. Completely unselfconsciously, Tom then pulled along a little tray with what looked like bath foam bottles. Chris threw a look at Tom's crotch; his cock had also lost interest somewhat, but was still an impressive sight. Chris had to close his eyes for a moment as unbidden images of the selfsame cock in his mouth made his own twitch and starting to get seriously interested. "These are body oils."  
  
"Oh?" Chris had trouble concentrating by now.  
  
"Here, smell this." He unscrewed a bottle, and Chris had to decide which one he liked best.  
  
"I think I would like the one best that I get to put on you," he said, causing Tom to break out in his trademark "Eheheheh".  
  
"I thought I'd put some on you, really," Tom confessed. "Who knows when I'll next have a chance to... appreciate all of this." His eyes flickered over Chris' body and took on a gleam that Chris recognized.  
  
He really wanted to say. Whenever you like, but felt strongly that it might put Tom off, and he really didn't want that to happen. Again.  
  
"Why not pick one out that you'd like on me. And I'm sure you already have your own favorite, so..." He blew out a breath. "Tom, let's be real here, anything that is an excuse for me to put my hands on you right now, is a good excuse, so please, let's not be picky."  
  
Tom laughed, a pleasant rumble in his throat. "Fine then," he said, quickly choosing two flasks. He kept the one with the cinnamon-colored liquid and handed Chris the one that housed a turquoise colored oil. "Turn over, lover." When Chris hesitated, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to lay hand on Tom at the same time, Tom tsked. "Give me my five minutes of shamelessly fanboying over your body like there is no tomorrow," he urged. "Turn over, Chris."  
  
Still grumbling a little, Chris did as he was bid, and was instantly rewarded with Tom straddling his legs, his glorious cock resting against Chris' ass. He exhaled sharply, drawing another chuckle from Tom. "Patience, love," he said, and Chris heard him uncork the bottle and Tom warming the oil up between his hands. A scent of sandalwood and tobacco began to permeate the air, and soon after, Chris felt Tom's hands start to work the oil into his shoulders.  
  
Chris groaned. "You have magic in your hands, Tom," he said. "God, that feels good."  
  
Tom hummed in response, and leaned over him to breathe on the oil, activating it. "How's this?"  
  
"Fantastic. Don't stop." He strained into Tom's hands, and mewled when he took them away.  
  
"I need more oil," he explained, and then rubbed his hands again, then drawing the oil down Chris' shoulders and arms. He was leaning over Chris, their bodies nearly touching, and the sounds of pleasure he made almost made Chris come then and there. "You feel fantastic, Chris," he whispered. "So good."  
  
He drew Chris' long hair aside and placed a kiss behind his ear, then licked at his lobe, sucking it into his mouth. He was really getting into it now, tracing Chris' ribs one by one, and then ran his hands up and down the smooth columns of his back while his tongue kept counterpoint down the length of his spine.  
  
He oiled up once more, and then worked on Chris' ass, inadvertently grinding Chris' cock into the mattress, making it incredibly hard to concentrate. Chris felt himself floating away into some other sphere, one of pure bliss, in which only this heavenly scent and Tom's hands existed which worked on his ass, and then down his legs, calves, and even his feet. "Good god, Tom, you're a witch," he groaned and then suddenly hissed, when a few drops of oil fell into his crack and, going more liquid through the heat, dripped down onto his ball sack. "What the fuck..."  
  
"Sh..." Tom said. "Relax." And then continued to work that fucking oil with his fucking magic hands into Chris' perineum with one hand, and around his balls with the other.  
  
Chris wanted to protest, but was too incoherent to do or say anything other than whine helplessly for Tom not to stop, please. Anything but that. Then Tom drew his teeth along his ass and Chris wanted to die.  
  
"I suppose this is going to be torture now," Tom finally said in a very low voice, "but it's your turn."  
  
Chris tried to return from the land of the quivering mass, his cock straining horribly against the sheets, his whole back humming with Tom's touch and the magic oil. He managed to get on all fours, but needed a moment to regroup, then reached for the turquoise oil, and turned around to Tom, who was quietly sitting nearby, waiting for him to regain his composure.  
  
"Kneel," he ordered very quietly. Neither one of them laughed as Tom did just that, turning his back to Chris and lowering his head in submission. Chris' breath was shallow when he poured some of the oil into his hand and rubbed it warm, then spread it over Tom's shoulders. The wave of arousal that washed over him was so massive that he groaned and sank his head against Tom's spine, needing a moment to recoup.  
  
"You drive me fucking crazy," he choked. "Tom..." His hands were still working against the muscles in Tom's shoulders. Tom might not have his classic form, but he felt amazing under his hands, each muscle well defined, and not a gram of fat too much. Chris finally managed to sit on his heels again and poured some more oil into his hands, this time being more concise about where he put it, letting his lips follow the trail of his hands all the way to Tom's crack, which he tongued briefly, eliciting a low moan from the other man's throat. He had no intention of oiling the whole Tom, he simply could not wait that long, so he graciously left out the man's legs when he oiled up his hands a third time, and just let them slide around his torso, and work the oil into his pecs. There was a distinct reaction this time, Tom sinking back against him.  
  
"Can you please kiss me," he sighed, and Chris happily complied, his hands working their way down Tom's ribs, and across his abdomen. He had to slick up once more, but then kissed Tom very reverently, and slid his hands along the V on the inside of his hips that lead directly to his impressive cock.  
  
Tom's breath hitched as he touched him for the first time, and he closed his eyes, but he didn't try to stop him or made any other attempt to discourage him, so Chris began a slow massage of the other man's shaft, and then ran his thumb over the head. Everything was so slick through the oil that the skin simply slipped between his hands, making everything easy, even reaching around his balls to his perineum. "You feel amazing," Chris said "Honestly... amazing."  
  
Tom turned his head towards him and smiled, then closed his eyes again as he was shuddering under Chris' ministrations. "You're not so bad... yourself," he managed to choke out. His hips began a slow beat to the rhythm of Chris' pumping, and Tom bit his lower lip. "Chris..."  
  
"What is it, love?" They had slipped into endearments a while ago, it just felt so natural.  
  
"Chris, you need to stop for a moment, or... or..."  
  
Chris kissed him just below the ear. "Or you'll come?" he whispered, very gratified that there was a tremble going through his lover, proving that his words did not leave him untouched.  
  
"Y... yes." He bit his lower lip and moaned. "Oh, fuck, this is... really amazing... Chris..." But then he shifted, and his hands stilled Chris'. "No," he strained out. "Stop."  
  
Not again. "I don't know that I can." Chris groaned with frustration. "You're killing me, Tom."  
  
"Let me touch you."  
  
Oh good lord in heaven. He had to try several times and then finally croaked out... "O.. Okay."  
  
And found himself on his back again, Tom straddling his hips, their cocks touching, rubbing against each other when Tom leaned forward to grab that godsbedamned bottle of oil once more. Chris had enough. He just wanted to get off at that point, suck Tom, jerk him off or simply rut until they both came, he didn't have any fucking patience left.  
  
"Hold on to that headboard," Tom said quietly. "Or I'll tie you to it."  
  
Chris had no idea he possessed such an arsenal of rude words, but he spewed them all at once, completely helpless in his arousal, and at the mercy of the man seated on his hips, whose fucking balls were having their way with his cock. He wanted to tell him to suck it (literally) and just get him off already, but there was this fucking brow just crawling off Tom's forehead and he found himself swearing mightily one more time but reaching up and holding on to the fucking headboard.  
  
The room was filled with nothing but his strained breathing for several moments as he glared at Tom, his knuckles white. Tom held his eyes while he slowly unscrewed the bottle with those gorgeous hands of his.  
  
"Are you always," he asked, his voice reaching every single one of Chris' nerve endings, "this impatient?" He held eye contact when he lifted the bottle and let some of the oil drip onto Chris' chest. "Can't you wait for the good things to come?" The bottle travelled from one nipple to the other, leaving a trail of small spatterings in its wake.  
  
Chris had no idea he could make those sounds as he seemed to strain into every drop. "Tom, please..." He finally started begging. "Please." The drips continued, down his breastbone and sternum, tracing his ribcage, and then, dripping onto the head of his cock, and he thought he might explode. He bit his lower lip, arching upwards, keening. "Please, Tom, please touch me. Please... oh my fucking god!"  
  
He got his wish, as Tom's long fingers wrapped around his cock, and he spread the oil along his shaft and head with his thumb, and then started a slow pump that threatened to short out Chris' brain once and for all. Something like that must have happened, because what happened next was nothing like a blur when he tried to recall it later, but lord, it was so worth it.  
  
Tom worked his cock, his eyes growing dark with arousal, and the sounds of their panting started to mix, until Tom leaned forward onto the hands he was placing left and right of Chris' torso, and started working the rest of the oil in with his own skin. At this point, all previous commands became moot; Chris left the headboard to its own devices and simply grabbed on to Tom, pulling him close, burying a hand in his hair, straining upwards against him while pulling him down on himself as hard as he could at the same time.  
  
Everything was slick and wet, and the oil seemed to make every sensation multiply manifold. Chris could not remember ever having experienced anything like this; he held on to Tom for dear life. They kissed deeply, and he felt the muscles in Tom's arms and back work as he drove himself against Chris, moaning into his mouth, straining, so hard, against his cock. When the orgasm came, it seemed to originate somewhere in Tom, and then spread to Chris, who bucked up helplessly before his eyes rolled back into his head and he spasmed under the onslaught of feeling, realizing, like it was happening somewhere far away, that Tom came onto his stomach for what seemed an impossibly long time, and he followed suit right after.  
  
His ears were ringing and he could hardly catch his breath, but he held his lover close, kissing everything of him he could reach: his face, his mouth, his hands. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," over and over again, until he felt Tom chuckle in his arms. "That was amazing, thank you."  
  
Tom smiled up at him, a lazy, _just fucked_ , bliss-drunken smile that Chris swore he would never in his life forget again. "Was it worth the wait?" Tom asked, his voice sounding giddy and a little bit mad. His grin was also still a little delirious looking.  
  
It was pretty much the cutest thing Chris had ever seen. He laughed. "Yes, you crazy person. Don't ever do it again, but yes." He held Tom's face in his hands and covered it in kisses, feeling completely foolish and not caring about it at all. He kept it up until Tom started giggling and writhing to get out of his grip, and Chris let him, his heart full to bursting, still.  
  
"I love you," he said simply, running a hand through Tom's short hair. "That was amazing."  
  
"Glad you liked it." Tom placed a kiss on his chin. "Ew, though." He shifted, making a face. Their combined come was slowly cooling off and turning into a coagulated mass between them, and Chris had to admit it was getting a bit uncomfortable. "Let me clean you off, Chris."  
  
He vacated his spot on top of Chris and cleaned up the bottles they had still left lying around, then pulled washcloths and towels closer and cleaned them up; first Chris, then himself. Chris had to admit that was kind of neat; nothing he ever worried about, but when Tom returned to his arms, nothing was sticking to each other that shouldn't.  
  
"Thank you," he said, kissing Tom's hair. "That was very Tom of you."  
  
"Eheheheh." Tom gave him a look. "Sorry I care about this stuff."  
  
"S'okay." Chris felt himself drift off and pulled his lover closer. "Just don't go anywhere."  
  
He could faintly feel Tom placing soft kisses along his clavicle before snuggling up to his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Chris. "Don't worry. I'm here."  
  
And then Chris was fast asleep.


	5. Reality Bites

A soft, almost undetectable beeping noise woke Chris the next morning. Disoriented for a moment, he squinted his eyes against the light falling through the half-closed blinds. He was attuned to that beep, which was why it woke him like nothing else, but when he wanted to sit up, he realized that Tom was draped all over him, literally. Stomach to stomach, Tom had somehow turned almost 90 degrees in his sleep, and now his cheek was resting on Chris' lower left arm, his mouth agape, left arm loosely wrapped around Chris neck.

 A quick look at the alarm revealed that it was 9am, but he could have known without looking as that was when the alarm on his phone sounded every morning. With all the time differences he was going through, he had a standing arrangement with Elsa that he would call every morning if they weren't in the same place at the same time. He loved her and his daughter, but he was at times forgetful and easily wrapped up in what he was doing. So at some point, after yet another time that he had forgotten to call her, he had simply programmed his phone to remind him, and had not forgotten ever since. And now that beep would wake him like nothing else.

 Except now here he was, weighed down with his lover of last night, and could not reach his phone to turn the alarm off that told him to call his wife. The complete and utter insanity of that arrangement hit him like a brick.

 Fortunately, Tom seemed to sleep like a saint. Chris took a deep breath, noticing, with a shake of his head, that Tom was lifted up each time he did that. How he had not simply choked under the other man's weight was anyone's guess.

  _Beep._

 Oh, for Christ's sakes.

 It seemed near impossible to extract himself from under the other man without waking him, so he tried the time-honored method of cuddling him aside. He curled up to his left and kissed Tom's cheek, then wrapped his arm around his torso and rubbed his back. "Tom," he said, in a very low voice. "I need to pee."

 It wasn't even a complete lie.

  _Beep._

 Tom made an unwilling noise, but one eye opened just the slightest bit, and he mewled: "Hm, no. Stay."

 "I'll be back in a moment, all right? Go back to sleep, love." The endearment just slipped out, and Chris wanted to swear. Why couldn't this be simple?

 "Promise?" Tom blinked.

 "Promise." Chris kissed him and realized that all he wanted to do was curl up with him again and just see what the morning would bring.

  _Beep._

 When Tom's arm wrapped around his shoulder and drew him closer, he couldn't help but being drawn in, and just kept kissing him. Tom smelled like sleep and love and warmth and there was a lingering scent of their mixed oils in the air. _God, I want to make love to you again_ , Chris realized. _I don't want to get up. I don't want to call anyone. I don't want to have to lie about how happy you make me._

  _I'm desperate._

 "Tom, you need to let me go or the bed will be swamped," he insisted, and reluctantly, the other man let him go, gathering all the bedding and curling up around that, instead. "I'll be right back." He kissed Tom's cheek and extracted himself from the warmth of the bed. There was no use in trying to put this off. If he didn't call, Elsa would want to know what was wrong, rightly so. He just had to keep his cool, pretend everything was okay.

 He found his jeans where he had left them the night before, and fished out his smartphone, turning off the alarm. A quick trip to the bathroom later, he was back in Tom's track pants and shirt and tiptoed out into the living room, his phone in his hands. Tom had appeared to have gone back to sleep, and he hoped to be done soon and to just be able to slip back into Tom's embrace and just pretend... pretend that things were simple and all right, just for this one weekend. He would deal with things later, but this one weekend, he just wanted for himself. 

  _Just this one weekend, god, please._

 The living room seemed gray and cold without Tom in it. Chris took the time to turn on the central heating, then sat down on the sofa, the phone in his hands. He stared at it, and stared, trying to get some form of control over his emotions, but all that happened was that he became more desperate by the moment.

 It was no use. He turned the phone on and speed-dialed Elsa's number, his heart thumping in his chest. It only rang three times, and there she was, her beautiful, soft voice answering him.

 "Good morning, my love."

 "Hey. Elsa. It's Chris." He ran a hand through his hair.

 "I figured as much." She laughed gently. "How are you this morning?"

 "Um... yeah. Good. How are you? How's the little angel?"

 “She's perfect. Wrapping her grandpa around her little fingers,” Elsa laughed. “He took her swimming yesterday.”

  _But that is my thing_ , he almost said. His chest tightened. He was missing too much of his daughter's life, and he hated it. He loved where his career was heading, and having India at this time had been absolutely right, but... the two didn't often mix well, and he was missing too much of her growing up. And she grew up so fast.

 “That's too bad. Wish I could've been there to see it.”

 "I filmed it, Chris. Will upload it later today? We missed you, too. She had such fun."

 Well. He could hardly tell them not to do it again without him present, if she enjoyed it that much. Even if he really wanted to. "Tell him not to teach her surfing, though, that's my job."

 Elsa laughed. "I doubt there's much chance of that any time soon, but sure, I'll tell him."

 "I love you."

 "Love you, too." It was quiet in the line for a moment, and then Elsa said: "Chris, what's wrong?"

 Damn. "What do you mean?" He could try stalling, at least.

 "You don't sound okay, _mi amor_. Did something happen?"

 There was no use trying to drag this out. He was a terrible liar, and she knew him too well. "Kind of."

 "Good or bad?"

 "I guess it depends on how you look at it." He exhaled and held on to his own neck, crouched over the phone. "Elsa, I'm at Tom's. He... I asked him to help me with my lines... been having a terrible time with them."

 "I know. It's why we went back to Spain, so you could work undisturbed." He could hear the hitch in her voice. "Is Tom okay?"

 Oh, God. "Yes, yes, he's... fine. We... got some good work done last night and he invited me to stay the weekend. Should have those pesky eight pages licked by then, he's really good." He chuckled. "You know him, he's excellent at this kind of thing."

 "Good for you, then." For a moment, all he could hear was her breathing on the other end, and then, plaintively, urgently: " _Chris_."

 It was unfair of him to drag this out, unfair of him to wait for her to ask the pertinent questions. "Elsa, I... we..."

 And then she just knew. "I was right, wasn't I?" Her voice dropped down to a lower register. "About Tom?"

 "Yes." Finally, it was out.

 “ _Dios mio._ ” 

 It was quiet in the line for a moment, nothing could be heard but Elsa's breathing. Chris wanted nothing so much but crawl through the line and hold her. Hearing her voice, speaking with her so intimately, it reminded him why he loved her so much, and how much he loved the life they were building. It did not change, however, the feeling of complete elation the moment he recalled Tom's face after they had made love last night; he wanted to jump up and shout it to the world _that this was what he had done_.

 He heard Elsa take a deep breath.

 "Is he... feeling the same way?" she asked, her voice still steady.

 "I... I don't know. I'm... no idea." Tom's bright blue eyes came to mind, and he had to smile. "It kind of just happened, Elsa."

 "But did he scream in horror and throw you out of his flat?" she asked.

 "No." He shook his head. "Or should I say, not yet. He's still asleep, so he might still have a bout of mortified regret, as he's bound to. I mean, he's Tom." He ran a hand through his hair. “Might be the end of our friendship after all.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I guess that would solve a host of problems.”

 "For anyone but you and Tom, maybe?" Elsa said, sounding a little impatient. “What has happened, has happened, it's not like you can go back and undo it and no one is the wiser.”

 “No. You're right.” He just wasn't sorry, so he could not say it, even if Elsa maybe waited for it. She was right, what had happened had happened. But he did hold his tongue on saying he wouldn't want to go back and undo it, either, because if he had the chance, he would do it again, exactly the same way.

 “Chris... let's be real here... is this a one-time thing?”

 “I don't know, Elsa.” _Not if it's up to me._ “It's too early to say.”

 “Well, what do you expect me to do?”

 “Nothing!” He blew out a breath. “Nothing. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I don't know what to say!”

 “I mean, I've always kind of suspected... that this may happen at some point.”

 He winced, knowing she was right. “I know.” 

 She had certainly been dropping hints left and right, each time he and Tom spent time together. Had pointed out to him, jokingly, what puppy eyes Tom was making at him when they saw each other. Would say “It's your husband” when she handed over the phone, or saw Tom draw into the driveway, with that look on her face. He would automatically correct her, saying “Brother” _,_ and she'd say: “Right”. And there was this time when Tom had come over, and they'd enthusiastically hugged, and she'd walked by, hit his ass, and said: “Will you two kiss already?” And they'd all had a good chuckle. 

 Well. Wasn't so funny now, was it?

 He sighed. “Would you believe me if I told you I had no clue this would ever happen?”

 “Yes.” She laughed at him. “You're an idiot.”

 “Well, thank you for that.” He snorted.

 “Are you still going to stay the weekend?” she asked.

 “Yes, we... still have six pages to go through, there's no way around it.”

 “So all work, no play?”

 “No, I... kind of crashed into Tom's weekend plans, so he's taking me to see the new Tarantino tonight. Some sort of pre-screening. And we're having lunch with his family tomorrow.” None of these things were out of the ordinary.

 “Looks like you have a busy weekend ahead, then.”

 “What about you and the little one?” It was a relief to speak about normal things, if only for a moment.

 “Grandpa and Grandma are babysitting tonight so I'm going to hit the town with Christina,” she said, mentioning a childhood friend of hers. “I doubt we'll end up in bed together, however.”

 “Very funny.” She had every right to hurt him; he would take it. He wanted to tell her to enjoy it in case she did end up with Christina after all, but managed to bite his tongue.

 “Chris...” She sounded pained. “I wish you'd not stay with him. I'd say come home, but... we're not home, are we?”

 “No.”

 “You're serious about him.”

 “Yes. As serious as I've ever been.” It nearly ripped his heart in two. “I... I need to know... whether we're still friends.”

 “Or more?”

 “I don't know about that, Elsa. I really don't, okay? Hell, I'm...” He felt tears of frustration. “I don't know what I'm doing, all right? Call me an idiot or whatever you want, I'm... I can't make it unhappen, and whatever the consequences, I need to deal with them. I don't want to lose you. But he's important to me, too.”

 “What am I supposed to do?”

 “I don't know. I really don't. You have every right to be upset...”

 “It's a bit cute, too, you know.” She suddenly giggled. “I can totally picture you two getting it on.”

 Chris blushed. “Elsa!”

 Now she full-on laughed at him. “I think I'm going a bit mad.”

 He blew out a breath. “Aren't we all.”He heard India squeal in the background and had to smile. “Is that the little one?”

 “Yes, Grandma is just bringing her in for breakfast.” Elsa's voice gentled. “Do you want to talk to her?”

 “Yeah.” 

 “I'm putting you on, hang on.” He could hear rustling, and Elsa saying something in Spanish to her mother, who answered in the affirmative, handing India over. “Here you go, Chris,” she then said.

 “Hi India, it's Daddy.” He heard her breathe into the phone. “How are you this morning?”

 “Da!”

 “That's right, it's Daddy. I heard you had a great time swimming with grandpa yesterday.”

 “Da!” The rustling intensified, and he heard Elsa instruct her not to chew on the phone. It made him chuckle.

 “India, Daddy loves you, all right? I miss you a whole big lot.”

 She just kept breathing into the phone, indicating that she was listing.

 “Have fun with your grandpa and your grandma today. I'll talk to you soon.” He just wanted to crawl through the phone and hold her right now. He missed her incredibly.

 “Chris?” It was Elsa again. “Listen, we need to get going.”

 “Yeah.” Nothing had been resolved. Then again, how should it?

 “We talk again tomorrow?”

 “Yeah – let me call you around noon?”

 “That sounds fine.”

 There was a moment of silence on the phone, then Chris said: “Please... will you cuddle India from me and tell her Daddy loves her?”

 “Always.”

 “I love you.”

 He could could hear the tears in her eyes when she said: “I love you, too, Chris.”

 “We'll... we'll figure it out, okay?”

 “We'll see.”

 “O... okay.” He felt the tears rising into his eyes and his voice choking up, himself. “Talk to you to tomorrow, then. Goodbye.”

 “Goodbye.”

 He heard the disconnect, and then the free sign, then turned off the phone and threw it on the table, his emotions in a turmoil. He just sat there for a while, breathing through his tears, letting their conversation replay in his mind until he felt a bit more settled. 

 He just couldn't change how he felt.

 And he really didn't want to.


	6. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another very short chapter. I'm sorry. It took me four individual, completely different drafts to figure out how to do this. This has been the most frustrating chapter to write because I just couldn't get it right. Tom is an incredibly hard nut to crack, and not at all easy to convince to let me know what is going on with him.  
> The next one is currently writing itself, so go figure.  
> Thank you all for your patience while I was wrestling with this.

The soft beep was so low that Tom was unsure at first what had woken him at all, and he was just about to drift off again when he heard it once more, pulling him out of his sleep. It took him a moment to come to, and he realized that he was lying face down on his bed, somehow draped all over Hemsworth.

 Stark naked.

 It made him smile, and he dozed off once more. The next time the bloody thing beeped was followed by Chris stirring, shifting closer and kissing his cheek. "Tom," he murmured while rubbing his back. "Tom, I've got to pee."

 "No. Stay," he mewled reflexively. He opened half an eye, getting a look at an adorably sleep-rumpled, disheveled Chris.

 "I'll be back in a moment, all right? Go back to sleep, love."

 The endearment felt good, and Tom smiled. "Promise?" He just wanted to have him near while he was waking up, not ready yet to let go of the wonders of last night.

 "Promise," Chris said, and the love in his eyes made Tom shiver. He received Chris' kiss, smiling happily at feeling his lips on his own, and when Chris tried to pull away, he reached out and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in, and down.

 There was no pretense, no rational thought in this. Feeling Chris against him was wonderful, familiar and exciting at the same time. He felt so good in his arms, just _right_ in a way he would have a hard time describing. Their lips touched as if they had done this many times, loving, reassuring, and Chris' hand was in his hair, his thumb brushing over Tom's ear.

 He wanted to keep doing this.

 After the next beep, he felt Chris pull back, pressing their foreheads together. "Tom, you need to let me go or the bed will be swamped," he said, but it was apparent that he didn't really want to leave.

 Tom looked at him, and there was this slightest edge of urgency, worry. This was Chris' beep, Tom suddenly realized. It was calling Chris to something. Or someone. He blinked, and reluctantly extracted himself from the reassuring form of Chris' body, gathering all the bedding and curling up around that, instead. Worried.

 "I'll be right back," Chris said as he leaned over him and kissed his cheek.

  _Please be._ Please _be._

 But when Chris came back from the bathroom, he didn't rejoin Tom on the bed. He walked right by, and closed the door behind him on his way out.

 Tom clutched at the bedding in his arms and pulled the pillow over his head. _Maybe he's just getting something to drink_ , a little voice inside his head said. _And maybe he's leaving and doesn't want you to make a scene_ , said another.

 Tom turned on his back, stared at the ceiling and said: "Get a grip, Tom."

 There was no sound from the living room, as much as he strained his ears, until finally, he heard Chris' voice. He couldn't understand what he was saying, but from the tone of it, he was talking to someone on the phone. Who could he possibly be talking to at this hour...? And then it hit him like a brick. His wife. Of course.

 Tom covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Tom, you're an idiot!"

 For the next two minutes, he was berating himself. For having done this. For actually thinking... for a split second, this morning, just letting go and basking in the feeling of how wonderful this was. Without worrying about anything, or anyone, other than the two people contained in this room. Not worrying about the outside world. Not worrying about being gay. He had not, for a moment, thought about Elsa, not last night, not this morning, never. It was as if Chris' wife didn't exist - and now she suddenly did.

 What should he do?

 He took a deep breath, and the scent of their combined oils hit his nostrils and it was suddenly all there again: How loving Chris had been. How much time he had taken to reassure Tom, make him feel that there was nothing he could do that would make Chris hate or despise him. How good he had felt under Tom's hands. And how frantic he had been for Tom to touch him, make love to him. He felt his cock stirring at the images he conjured up, but Hemsworth, in the throes of passion... it made Tom gulp, and sweat break out on his brow. He had been magnificent and ridiculously needy; a combination that both amused Tom and aroused him very much. He'd been needy for his, Tom's, touch, had been needy to make love with _him_. That was extraordinary and wonderful and almost impossible to grasp, except it felt so good. And so damn _right_.

  _I want to do this again_ , he suddenly realized. _I want to do this again and again and again, I don't care what anyone says. I want to see that love in Chris' eyes each time he looks at me, I want to keep touching him like that, I want to make him come like that... again. I want to turn around and he's there, smiling at me._

  _I want this man. So much._

 His heart was pounding in his chest. The discovery elated him, made him feel impossibly free, robbing his breath. For such a long time, a whole world had been closed to him. Now he wondered which experiences and opportunites he had missed out on over the years, being so incredibly closed up and afraid.

 This wasn't about being gay, it was about willfully shutting oneself away from an incredible canopy of experiences and knowledge, because of prejudice. And this, he decided then and there, would be the end of that.

 He still didn't _feel_ gay. He just loved Chris. He would have to explore if that was a common phenomenon. Could you be perfectly straight and just fall in love with one person of your own sex?

 He listened; Chris was still speaking. To his _wife_.

 Tom blew out a breath. There was nothing he could do but wait. Wait what Chris would do. If Chris would pick up his clothes and leave, or indicate in any other way that the matter was closed for him this morning, Tom would do his best to accept it and let it go. It wouldn't be easy; he hoped they would stay friends. His stomach cramped uncomfortably at the thought of losing Chris altogether. But this was nothing he could decide or influence, and he wouldn't. All he could do was knowing how he felt, himself.

 And use the bathroom.

 He hopped up and hurried over, wanting to be back by the time Chris was... if he would be. And worse than Chris coming back and him being in the bathroom would be having to make him wait because he needed to go.

 Tom finished his business in record speed and, as he washed his hands, threw a handful of cold water into his face and rinsed his mouth. He grimaced at himself in the mirror as he rubbed his face dry, and then returned to the bedroom. Should he dress?

 With a groan, he simply let himself fall onto the bed again, his face buried in one of his soft pillows. He was still too tired to bother.

 And then the bedroom door opened. And Tom froze, not knowing what to do. Really, how ridiculous was he... butt naked, literally, face down on his bed... if this was going to be the letdown talk, this would be the worst dress imaginable to get it in. But he didn't dare move, all senses trained on that person who had just closed the door behind himself. Chris' naked feet made a light scuffing noise on the carpet, as he walked towards the bed, and he stopped right behind Tom... and chuckled warmly at the sight.

 Then Tom heard some clothes rustling, and the bed dipped, and Chris slid onto it, right beside him. He didn't dare look up, look at him, just felt him incredibly close. His heart was racing impossibly fast, and threatened to explode when he felt Chris' fingers tracing his spine.

 "Hey," Chris said softly. "I'm back."

 The relief was immeasurable. It flooded through Tom, leaving him weak-kneed and nearly crying, but all he did was breathe into his pillow, trying to get a grip. The next thing he felt, however, was Chris' lips on his shoulder, kissing him, and that didn't help matters at all.

 "Are you awake?" Chris asked, continuing his exploration down Tom's upper arm. "Tom?"

 "Hm... yeah." He finally turned his head and couldn't help but beam at the sight of Chris by his side, also butt naked, mimicking his posture. "I'm awake."

 Chris returned the smile "How are you?" he asked, encompassing the whole of last night, and Tom's feelings in particular about being perceived as gay.

 "Pretty much perfect," Tom said, his voice very rough all of a sudden. "Now that you're back."

 Chris' smile was tremulous. "That's good," he said, his voice nearly breaking. "That's really good."

 "Yes." Tom freed his left arm from the bedding it was buried in and touched Chris' face, letting his fingers trace along his cheek and around his ear. "How are you?"

 "Glad to be here with you," Chris said. There was treacherous tear glistening in the corner of his eyes, and he caught Tom's hand and pressed a hot kiss on the inside of his palm.

 "Me, too." They smiled tremulously at each other. "Chris. You came back."

 "Yeah." Chris leaned over and kissed him gently. "I came back. Is that okay with you?"

 "Very." Tom let his hand slide around Chris' torso. "Very much."

 Chris settled his body against Tom's, sliding their skin against each other. "May I make love to you?" he asked, his mouth close to Tom's ear. "Please?"

 "Always." It was out so fast. He could have just said Yes, but it was out already.

 Chris smiled. "That sounds like an awful lot of times," he teased gently. "Have you thought about that?"

 Tom bit his lower lip and nodded. It was a curt nod, he did not want to start crying even though he felt like he might burst every moment. "It was all I could think about while you were out there," he said. "Chris."

 "It was all I could think about, too." Chris dipped his head and brushed their lips together once more. Tom opened his mouth to his tongue, arousal sweeping over him like a wave. He moaned into Chris' mouth, his body rising to his touch. "That I want to do this again."

 "Chris," Tom said once more, he just couldn't get enough of saying his name. It was a like a chant, a prayer. "I really want you." His heart suddenly open to so much potential hurt, it felt like a wound suddenly exposed to the air. It felt good, but it was startling and hurt. "Really want to be with you."

 "Yes." There, it was over, a tear was just leaving Chris' eye. "That sounds really good."

 Tom moved in and gently licked the tear off Chris' face. "Don't cry."

 Chris' chuckle sounded fairly sodden. "Just relieved."

 "Yeah." Tom motioned him to rest his head on his shoulder. "Me, too." He caressed Chris' hair and kissed his forehead; just holding him like that felt wonderful. Chris' arm was wrapped around his middle and he stroked his ribs in soothing circles. He shifted even closer and slung a leg over Tom's, which made him smile. Tom reached over and drew his duvet over them, snuggling them in.

 And that's the position they fell asleep in.


	7. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom figures out what he likes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might as well be a one-shot because it's nothing but fluff, banter, and sexy times. Have fun! They sure did... ;)  
> Definitely NSFW.

When they woke up again, it was noon. Tom stretched luxuriously and bent his neck at an impossible angle to see the alarm display, then groaned and laughed helplessly.

 "Chris," he said, kissing him gently, "Love, wake up. It's already noon. We need to get going."

 "Hm... no." Chris' arm contracted around his middle and he cuddled himself in even more.

 "Honey," Tom said, amused about himself. He'd have to try out a few endearments before he'd find a couple that would fit his new lover. "Chris... we still need to get your rehearsing done. I need to run. We need food. We need to get you back to your hotel to change. We need to be at the theater at 8 and you wanted to take me out to dinner before that. We're on the clock."

 That stirred Chris awake. "Honestly?" he said, staring at Tom in a sleep-startled way.

 "Really." That rumpled visage was just too cute. Tom had to laugh.

 "Are you saying that I fell asleep instead of... you know, making love to you, and now it's too late?"

 Tom nodded, trying to suppress his mirth at Chris' displeasure and assumed a sad face. "Apparently sleep was way more attractive than I was," he said.

 Chris pounced on him and playfully nipped at his shoulder. "Definitely not possible," he said, crouched over his lover, then rubbed their noses together in an Eskimo kiss.

 "Had I known you are this romantic," Tom said, now greatly amused, "I would've tried this a long time ago."

 "Heh heh heh heh." Chris lowered his head and started tickling Tom's neck with his beard. "The more you know..."

 "You're a child, Hemsworth." Tom tried to buck him off, and within seconds, they were engaged in a wrestling match that really was that, and no euphemism for anything else. Insults were flying back and forth as each man used his features to his advantage: Chris used his strength and bulk and Tom was flexible, lean and his long limbs lent themselves to better angles. Pillows flew left and right, the alarm clock went crashing, there was trying to wrap each other in blankets to disable the other, and at some point, Chris was tickling Tom to within an inch of his life before the older man could wind himself out of Chris' grip and flipped him off the bed.

 Luckily, all blankets and duvets were already there, so the rug rash stayed minimal while Tom tried to wrestle Chris into a headlock and was rewarded with Hemsworth sitting on his chest, immobilizing him.

 "You're not going anywhere," he said, looking very satisfied as he kept the struggling Tom down with the weight of his bulk alone.

 Tom just laughed. "Like I want to," he wheezed. "But could you get off my lungs? I can't breathe. You weigh a ton."

 Chris narrowed his eyes and leaned over him. "Is this another one of your tricks?" he asked.

 Tom wrapped his arms around Chris' shoulders and drew him into a kiss. "No, but this is..." They were both flushed from the exercise and Chris was a little sweaty and tasted nicely salty. Within moments, the larger man had melted into Tom and toppled them over to their sides, stretching out alongside him, hooking a leg behind his knee. "And I can see it's working," Tom teased, rolling them over and pinning Chris' hands to the floor beside his head. "I think I win." 

 Chris pushed upwards, and Tom could feel that he was getting interested. "Maybe we could both win," he suggested, wiggling his brow.

 "Your pickup-lines suck," Tom said, laughing. He brought his face very close to Chris' and said: "Do you really want... a quickie?" He asked. "I would rather savor the experience and take my time with you."

 "I noticed," Chris groaned. "Damn you, Hiddleston."

 Tom chuckled, but his hand did trace down Chris' body. "I could... you know... get you off...?" he offered. Chris' cock was _definitely_ interested now.

 Chris groaned. "You fucking tease," he said, but caught Tom's hand on his hip bone.

 "No?" Tom inclined his head, honestly curious.

 "No... no, you're right." Chris rolled his eyes, but then his expression gentled. He let Tom's hand go and lifted his own to trace a line along Tom's cheekbone. "I would rather take my time with you, too... get to know you better... find out what turns you on. I still have that fantasy of hearing you begging me to let you come."

 "Thank you, now _I'm_ starting to get bothered," Tom said. He really was.

 "Heh heh," Chris chuckled and winked at him. "Quickies are for people who expect to never see each other again. That's not what I want with you," he said. "Or for people who know each other really well. Not there with you yet, either."

 "Do you want to be?" Tom's eyes were wide with curiosity.

 "I guess it's too early to say," Chris said. "But you're not anyone to me... I want to treat you with respect. I want to give us time to get to know each other."

 Tom blinked. "Wow."

 "You know," Chris said, his eyes narrowing. "That this is really weird? You're a dude, man."

 Tom laughed out loud. "So?"

 "I mean, what's the etiquette here?" Chris asked. "I know what women like. Romance and all that. What do you like? Aren't we supposed to just jump on each other and go at it?"

 Tom rolled his eyes. "Not really my thing," he said. "I'm a slow riser."

 "Ouuuuuch." Chris chuckled. "Attention, puns flying at low altitude."

 "Eheheheh." Tom kissed him quickly. "But if you aren't, then I'm not adverse to helping you... to get satisfied...?" He raised a questioning brow at the man lying under him.

 "How about kissing?" Chris suggested, instead. "Do we have time for ten minutes of tonsil-hockey?"

 Tom didn't bother looking at the clock. "Yeah," he said. "We can definitely spare those."

 Twenty minutes later, they were finally trudging into the kitchen in their pajama bottoms, and Chris was rubbing at a sore spot on his hip. "Really," he said. "Now I know why wrestlers wear these ridiculous suits. I hate rug burn."

 Tom threw him a look over his shoulder as he was approaching the coffee maker. "The first Olympic athletes wrestled in the nude," he said. "Large or small?"

 "A bucket," Chris groaned, opening the fridge door to see what Tom had in for breakfast.

 Tom dutifully fished out two mugs and got the coffee pads out, choosing a blend he suspected Chris would like. "I'll make you a full English tomorrow, of you like."

 "Can we, like, fry a dozen eggs this morning?" Chris asked. "I'm incredibly behind on my eating."

 "Then it'll be a full English without eggs," Tom said. "Unless you keep two for tomorrow."

 Chris grumbled. "Everyone's a critic."

 Tom just laughed. "There's about six different cereals up in that cupboard," he gestured with his chin. "Or I could make you porridge, that should be filling."

 "Do you have apple-cinammon?" Chris asked, coming over to where Tom was filling the coffee maker's water tank.

 "I have a recipe with cinnamon, brown sugar, bananas and raisins." Tom said. "How about that?"

 "You cook it from scratch?" Chris couldn't help himself and slid his arms around Tom's naked torso, kissing his neck.

 Tom smiled. "Hm, yes. Whole milk for you, huh? I think I even have some cream somewhere. I guess there can't be enough calories in there for you." He shuffled towards the coffee maker, Chris still attached. "This is a bit awkward, Chris, do you mind?"

 "Hm, yes, I do, actually. You are standing still now after all," Chris said, nuzzling the nape of Tom's neck. "You could stop being so delicious, that would help."

 Tom nearly spilled the water, laughing. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Hemsworth."

 "When the ancient Olympians wrestled in the nude, do you think they got boners, too?" Chris philosophized, his breath hot against Tom's back. "All that sweaty skin, hot breathing, straining muscles..."

 Tom's back shook with silent laughter, and he finally turned around in Chris' embrace. "We could look it up," he suggested. "After breakfa... oh." His mouth was caught in another kiss, Chris pressing him against the counter top. "Oh... god..."

 "You can call me Thor," Chris said conversationally, then yelped when Tom smacked his ass for being a smart-alack. "So, does your hand hurt now?" he asked, his brow wiggling. "Buns of steel, baby."

 Tom's whole body was shaking with laughter. "Actually, yes. Hmm." He hummed into another kiss. Maybe they should've just had sex after all; he could see how this day was threatening to become one extended make-out session. He kew he should protest. Unfortunately, his body really didn't care and was too busy melting into Chris. "Damn you're a good kisser."

 "I'm testing that slow riser theory," Chris said against his lips, and then gave him a cocky smile.

 "Hm...?" Tom's brain was too busy sending blood southwards to process words on the spot.

 "You. Being a slow riser," Chris said, his hands sliding downwards to Tom's ass and pulling him closer. "Hm. I'd say we're getting there."

 "What do you intend to do with it when you have it?" Tom asked. "Bend me over the counter top?"

 "I figured if I kept you on slow simmer for the whole day, it could always... you know... happen." Chris was grinning so insolently now that Tom was tempted to kiss the expression off his face.

 "You think you're so clever, don't you..."

 "Yep. Pretty much."

 "Guess I'll have that for breakfast, then," Tom said lightly. "I heard it's full of proteins and other good nutrients. Plus, it's already heated up. Means I don't have to cook."

 "Oh.... eww." Chris made a face and shook himself. "I'd rather - if you still would, please - that porridge really sounds delicious."

 "If you would, you know, let me?" Tom realized that his interest in breakfast was rapidly waning, but he was doing his best to hold on to what little sanity he still had.

 "I could hold on to you while you stir." Chris said hopefully, his hips pressing into Tom's.

 Tom had to close his eyes for a moment, trying desperately to keep his wits. "Or you could go get your script and we could rehearse what we did yesterday." Tom was surprised that his voice had not gone altogether, but it did sound a bit rough.

 "Spoilsport." Chris sighed. "Really?"

 "Yes, really. Oh god, and _please_ put on a shirt." At this point, Tom was fairly sure that if Chris sat at the breakfast table like this, he'd simply jump him. A shirt might help. It might cover that incredibly delicious, cut, masculine, tapering waistline he was currently running his fingers along. "You are horribly distracting like this," he said, his voice raw. How a man could be so broad-chested and have such an elven waistline would always be a mystery to Tom, but one he had every intention of exploring thoroughly. He imagined Chris moving this against him... seductively... and found himself moaning under his breath.

 "Tom...?"

 "I just realized I was mistaken about the slow riser," Tom said, panting. "When in reality, it seems no one's ever turned me on like this."

 Both of Chris' eyebrows shot up, but he didn't struggle at all when Tom pulled him closer, bringing their cocks in close contact.

 "Do you feel that?" Tom said, his fingers digging into Chris' ass, holding him firmly in place and giving a seductive grind. "You do _that_ to me."

 "Tom... fuck." Chris couldn't help himself and moved against him, grabbing the back of his head and kissing him deeply. "Fuck."

 "That sounds like an excellent idea, actually." Tom let one hand slip between them, moaning loudly at the feeling of Chris ripped stomach against the back of his hand.

 "What happened to taking it slow?" Chris panted. He was breathing hard and couldn't stop kissing Tom, and this had nothing to do with the slow, reverent, intimate kisses they had shared earlier.

 "You wanted to know what I liked." Tom's hand slipped into Chris' pants and curled around his cock. "I think I like _this_."

 "Oh god!" Chris threw his head back, clawing at Tom's shoulders.

 "You know... you can call me Loki if you like," Tom said. "Fuck, you feel good." He licked his lips, sliding his hand up and down Chris' cock in measured, firm strokes. "Do you think you can stay standing when I make you come like this?"

 Chris just bit his lip and shook his head. His pupils were completely blown and Tom doubted whether any of the higher reasoning in his brain still worked. He turned him around and made him walk in front of him without losing grip on his cock, and once they were in the living room, pushed him to lie down on the sofa, climbing on right after him, crouching over his prone form.

 "Tom... Tom... please... a little slower," Chris panted. "Or I'll come right here and now. You're driving me fucking crazy."

 Tom smiled a lazy smile at him. "I do seem to have that effect on you, don't I?" He leaned over Hemsworth and kissed him deeply, his tongue playing languidly against Chris'. His cock was brushing Chris' and they both moaned. It was near impossible to avoid, since their manhoods seemed to magnetically gravitate towards each other: Tom's was weighed down by how hard he had become, Chris' tented his own bottoms at an almost comical angle. Tom had to shift so he wouldn't crouch between Chris' legs, and he didn't like it one bit. "I don't mind if you come," he said, licking one long, broad stroke up Chris' neck, making him arch up. "As long as it is in my mouth."

 "Oh my fucking god!" Chris threw his head back. "Tom..."

 "I asked you to call me Loki," Tom loomed over him, feasting on the sight of Chris completely overwhelmed by his passion. "If you have to call on a god, do it on him."

"Are you fucking serious?"

 Tom gave him a slow smile. "Yes."

 A shiver went through Chris. "O... okay."

 Tom realized that he was maybe getting a bit carried away, and kissed Chris, taking his time and not escalating things, until he felt the other man relax. Chris was running his hands up his arms, one stayed at his neck, and the other brushed over his back and came around to his cock, running against it. "I want to touch you while you touch me," Chris said.

 The touch was running a shiver up Tom's spine. "Okay," he breathed. "Good thing I'm flexible."

 They shared a smile, and Tom nodded towards Chris' stomach. "Don't mind me going a little nuts on that."

 "Never." Chris' eyes were wide in wonder of what was happening. "Try to go easy on me."

 "I really can't promise that." Tom worked his way down, running first his tongue, then his teeth around the outline of Chris' pecs, then sucked hard on each nipple, so hard that Chris cried out and his fingernails dug into Tom's neck painfully. It made him feel wide awake, and he continued his journey, treating each abdominal muscle with the same loving care until Chris' stomach stuck with Tom's saliva, and Tom was sure that his back was scratched bloody by now. He pulled at Chris' bottoms, catching his cock on his tongue as it sprang forward, not even pretending to be able to wait as he took it deep into his mouth, enveloping as much of it as he could.

 Chris cried out and nearly sat up, pulling at Tom's hair painfully. Tom took no pity on him and enveloped his balls with one hand, his fingertips stroking the sensitive area right behind them. There was a strangled cry coming from Chris, and on a long moan, he breathed. "Oh... Loookiiii..."

 Tom nearly came right then and there. He had to breathe slowly several times, not moving, and not doing anything with that cock in his mouth until he felt he would not spontaneously combust if his cock even brushed the slightest bit against the fabric of his bottoms. He looked up. There was Chris, flushed with arousal, panting, the most gentle smile on his face, lifting a hand up and running his fingers lovingly through Tom's hair, brushing the backs of his fingers against his cheek. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes in consent for Tom to continue, and Tom did, languidly pulsating his tongue against the underside of Chris' cock while pulling gently at his balls. Chris shifted, sitting up more against the back of the sofa, and his other hand brushed gently over Tom's back, and then around his front, over his nipples and down the center of his torso.

 Tom helped him, for one moment letting go of Chris' balls and unceremoniously pulling down his pajama bottoms so they clung to just under his butt. He shifted a little, trying to find a good angle to continue making love to Chris while allowing his lover access to his own cock.

 Chris was so much gentler about it than he had been, lovingly scratching along Tom's treasure trail into his reddish curls, and then back up the underside of his cock. For a man this broad, Chris had incredibly beautiful, long-fingered, sensitive hands, accentuated by a leather bracelet around his wrist, which Tom now watched in fascination as Chris wrapped his thumb and forefinger around Tom's cock in a loose loop and started stroking him. For some reason, Chris just knew what he, Tom, liked, and Tom exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment to concentrate on the sensation of Chris' touch on him, then began playing his tongue against Chris again, and enveloped his balls with his hand once more.

 They developed a slow, languid rhythm, Chris' hand in Tom's hair, and then Tom brought his other hand into play, stroking Chris' shaft while he was running his tongue around his head and sucking him deep into his mouth. Chris' breathing began to speed up; soon his fingers were clawing at Tom's hair, and his hips began to push his cock deeper into Tom with each stroke. They were of one mind, of one purpose, Tom wishing nothing more than to bring the most profound pleasure to Chris. He felt his cock pulsating against his tongue, and his balls tense, and knew he was close, and then Chris began to chant with each breath, not Loki's, but his own name. Tom felt the sinking sensation of his own orgasm approaching and willed Chris over the edge with a dedicated stroke and suck, and then he felt him coming, his semen spilling into Tom's mouth in rapid spurts. Tom moaned, pressing his head against Chris' rock-hard abs as Chris gave him the final strokes, and then shuddered helplessly in the throes of his orgasm. Chris' cock slipped out of his mouth as he groaned, semen unceremoniously dripping from his lips onto Chris' stomach as Tom desperately tried to catch his breath, and nearly failing.

 "Love..." Chris quickly gathered him in his arms, holding him close. "It's okay," he said. "It's fine. I've got you." He kissed his hair, holding his head close to his chest, and rubbed his arm vigorously, while Tom was still too delirious to respond, twitching helplessly in Chris' arms. "That was... glorious... Tom... you did good." He laughed, feeling quite light-headed himself. He dipped Tom's face up by his chin and watched his glassy eyes trying to focus on him, such an expression of bliss on his face that it looked quite comical when he tried to smile.

 "It's okay," Chris said, his own heart feeling like it wanted to take wing and fly away. "Take your time." He laughed softly. "You poor thing." There were strings of his own come clinging to Tom's lips, and running down the edges of his mouth to his chin. Chris thought he had never seen something so beautiful in his life, his heart threatening to burst at the sight. "Look at you." He bowed his head and kissed Tom quickly on the lips. "Loki."

 Tom chuckled, his eyes still fixated on Chris', tangling a hand with his long hair and pulling gently on it, motioning Chris to come down and kiss him some more. The taste of his own come on Tom's tongue was a heady sensation, Chris found, not at all unpleasant. "I love you," he whispered. "So much. You are incredible, Tom." He felt Tom smile against his lips. 

 It was so endearing to see that it seemed common to Tom that he was not able to speak for a bit after having just climaxed, one of the few things, apparently, that would ever shut him up. So Chris wasn't surprised that it took a little longer of snuggling Tom to his side, holding him close and stroking his head, until he heard him whisper. "I love you, too, Chris."

 "Back among the living?" Chris brushed a hand through his hair. "That was amazing."

 "Sure was." Tom turned his head and kissed Chris' chest. "No more trying to simmer me, though." He smiled, his reactions still a little slow.

 Chris chuckled. "I know better now."

 "You really turn me on," Tom said, letting an indicative finger run down Chris' torso. "Everything about you does."

 Chris felt a shiver go down his spine. He caught Tom's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his fingertips, and then inserting two fingers into his mouth, sucking lightly on them.

 Tom's eyes widened, and then he smiled. "Payback?" he asked softly.

 "Promise," Chris said, kissing his way down to Tom's wrist. "Next time it's my turn."

 "Okay." Tom blinked languidly, then winced.

 "What is it?"

 "God, I'm hungry." He rubbed his stomach. "All that exercise, and nothing to eat."

 "It's 1.30," Chris said. "I'm sorry."

 "I'm not." Tom yawned. "And we're sticky."

 Sure enough, Chris own come was smeared all over his stomach and chest, while Tom's had generously distributed itself over his pajamas, stomach, and a bit of sofa.

 "Messy sex is the best." Chris shifted and stood up, then held a hand out. "Come on, I'll clean you up."

 Clean-up in the bathroom turned out to be fun, with both men taking their time making extra sure that the wash cloths had done a good job. Tom conscientiously made sure that no more saliva was clinging to Chris' front, discovering, to his delight and Chris' chagrin, that he did have a ticklish spot just below his arm pits, after all. 

 Afterwards, Tom ordered Chris sternly into decent clothing, which was met with a lot of laughter and teasing, and when Chris steadfastly tried to get out of covering his upper body by insisting that yesterday's shirt wasn't smelling good and had a stain, Tom made very sure to hand him the largest tee he had (which was still straining on Chris, and he just could not look away), and then, a cardigan that would cover most of the man who was running him ragged at the moment.

 Back in the kitchen, Chris was setting the table and fixing Tom's tea while Tom was humming over the sweet-smelling porridge on his stove. It was, Tom mused as he stirred, in a lot of ways not at all different from how they would have done it... before. Before last night.

 Then Chris walked by and gave his ass a loving smack, and Tom had to laugh.

 Maybe a bit different after all.


	8. Wanting to Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that when I add Tom and Chris' friends or family that are not really in the public eye I'm going to invent names left and right. I find it weird enough to write about real people. I'd find it even weirder to write about people I know absolutely nothing about, and whose profession doesn't necessarily put them in the limelight.
> 
> Just so you're not wondering where this new friend is coming from, and why she isn't named after the real person.

They managed to be done eating by 2.30 and moved on to rehearsing Chris' scenes, both men basking in the sun under Tom's bay windows like two lazy tomcats. Chris was using Tom's stomach as a pillow – Tom didn't trust himself the other way around, which made Chris laugh – and both held their scripts over their heads, shielding their eyes from the sun while the rest of them was bathed in the rays of a rare sunny winter day. **  
  
**Chris found that he was easily able to move through yesterday's pages. Sure, not every word was right on target, but he was now able to find his way within the scene easily, and pick up where he had left off should he be interrupted. **  
  
**They moved on to reading through the next set of pages, deciding where to stop working for the day, then read in character, trying out different angles of approach. **  
  
**Working with Tom was so easy, they just fit together. Chris would usually be fairly laid-back and try to work his way through a scene on his intuition alone. Sometimes, as evidenced in this case, that would not quite work, and that was when Tom's approach was so incredibly helpful. Tom would approach a scene with the magnifying glass of a classics education, examining each word for possible connotations and hidden meanings. Chris mused that having to work for most of his acting career with what was left of the writing of some dead 16th century hack called Shakespeare whom you simply could not ask to rewrite or explain, had made Tom very adept at milking every word for what it was worth. At the same time, he would sometimes get a little too intense or hung up on details, and that was when Chris came in and just trusted his instincts to make the right decisions for his character. They simply complemented each other, always had, and when Tom kept saying that Chris made Tom a better actor, that was a huge compliment that he liked to give back whenever he could. **  
  
**Right now, just hearing Tom's voice say Odin's lines was soothing, and he had to concentrate so he would not simply press his ear against Tom's chest and be lulled to sleep by that perfect enunciation. **  
  
**"Are you on set on Monday?" he asked as they had moved through a scene to its conclusion. **  
  
**"No, just coming in for a costume fitting and some stunt work. Loki doesn't feature much on the call sheet next week, other than working with the second unit to pick up some takes for use with the CGI later," Tom said. "I heard there's some wire work down the line." He raised a brow. "That's always fun." **  
  
**"Hm." Chris turned so he could see Tom's face, smiling when he caught Tom’s eyes and the other man’s whole face lit up in reaction. "I was wondering." **  
  
**"About what?" Tom put the script on the floor beside him, giving Chris his full attention. **  
  
**"Would you maybe... come to see us shoot this scene?" **  
  
**"Still feeling insecure?" Tom asked, catching a strand of Chris' hair and twirling it around his fingers. "We still have a full day to rehearse." **  
  
**"A little," Chris said. He took a deep breath. "Actually... we're going to be on set until fairly deep into the night, and... I won't see you if you can't make it." **  
  
**"Are you going to miss me?" Tom was intrigued. **  
  
**"What if I will?" The thought of not seeing Tom for a full day really didn't sit well with Chris. **  
  
**"That is very sweet." Tom crunched up his nose. "So what are we going to tell everyone why I came by?" The gym in which they rehearsed the stunts was 40 min away from the lot – not really close enough to simply "drop by", and not on his way home from work, either. **  
  
**"You missed your favorite brother," Chris said, easily meshing their fingers together. **  
  
**"More like favorite lover, huh?" Tom gave his hair an affectionate tussle. **  
  
**Chris preened a little. "That works for me, too." He saw Tom smile back... and that smile turn into a fairly wistful expression. "Hey. What’s up?" **  
  
**"I can't be... that... in public, can I?" **  
  
**"On account of you not wanting to be gay?" Chris asked, suddenly sorry that he had even started the topic. **  
  
**"On account of you being married to a woman and having a small baby?" Tom said. **  
  
**It came so suddenly that it caught Chris a little by surprise. "Oh, yes," he said. "That." **  
  
**"Yeah, that." Tom didn't look particularly hurt or upset, just wistful, as if he had already decided not to expect too much. **  
  
**Chris didn't quite know what to say at first. From the moment he had hung up on his wife this morning, this had been the perfect day. So many new discoveries... and just completely getting wrapped up by whatever was happening between them. And Tom hadn't said a thing, had not asked, had not once tried to burst the bubble – until now. It had been easy to forget that he had other responsibilities, that this was not his whole life. **  
  
**But what had happened today, just so far, had been... amazing. They'd been great friends before, and now this just felt like the logical continuation. It didn't feel weird or wrong, just... _yes, this is it. Of course this will work. We belong together. Always have._ **  
  
**"Hey," Tom said. "Penny for your thoughts?" **  
  
**Well, it was probably way too early to come out with this.. but... he had to know. **  
  
**"If they weren't there..." Chris said haltingly, his eyes not leaving Tom's face. "If I wasn’t married... Would you... could you imagine going public with... with this...?" He indicated the two of them. **  
  
**"God. What a question." Tom blew out a breath and stared at the ceiling, his arm flung over his forehead. That he even considered it and didn't directly laugh Chris out of the room gave him hope. "I don't know. I'd have to think about that." **  
  
**Chris decided to press on. "Because it looks like right now, we both have a good reason not to... but if all those reasons weren't there..." **  
  
**"You mean if you were not married and I wasn't so paranoid to be called gay?" There was a line around Tom's mouth that Chris did not like, and he finally swung up into a sitting position, one hand coming to rest on Tom's chest. **  
  
**"Yes." **  
  
**"What level of hypothetical are we talking about here?" Tom asked. "I think there's little comparison between your problem and mine." **  
  
**"Both need commitment and a decision," Chris said. A feeling of cold fear swept over his back. This was a question that should have been asked... later. When they knew each other better, and had a better idea of whether this had any future at all. But his own life had already been irrevocably changed, he had already started the ball rolling. Things between his wife and himself would never be the same. Would she forgive him and stay with him if he never saw Tom again after this weekend? He wasn't sure about either. Would he agree to never seeing Tom again to save his marriage? No. **  
  
**Hearing his own inner voice being so clear about it was startling and freeing at the same time. He so wanted to tell Tom about it, but he didn't want him to think he was destroying a family... he was doing that all by himself, but it was on his own head, not on Tom's. **  
  
**But Tom had withdrawn into himself, suddenly seeming aloof and cold, which Chris knew he wasn't, in the slightest. "Tom?" he asked, getting a bit worried. **  
  
**Tom did a very typical thing next, made eye contact and laughed once, as if that would distract Chris from the fact that he was obviously troubled about something. "It's nothing." **  
  
**Chris rested his chin on his knees and just looked at him, his right hand finding Tom's again, and meshing their fingers together once more. **  
  
**"I just like this little bubble of... one weekend to figure out stuff," the other man finally said, his words halting as if he was still thinking them over while saying them. "I don't know what will happen afterwards." **  
  
**Chris closed his eyes as a sign that he was listening. "And Monday is too far into the future?" **  
  
**"What happens when Elsa comes back?" Tom asked, his worry making him look so young. "I can't... can't get used to being around you so much if she comes back and..." **  
  
**"… and everything will be over?" **  
  
**There were definitely tears in Tom's eyes now. He just nodded, quickly. It should have broken Chris' heart, but the fact that Tom cared so much made him want to jump up and down and whoop, instead. **  
  
**"It won't." Chris pressed the hand that was meshed with his. "I won't let it." **  
  
**He could see emotions chasing each other over Tom's face like shadows. "What do you mean?" he asked. **  
  
**"I'm really serious about this. About you." Chris shrugged, feeling as if a huge weight had lifted off his heart. "I guess you should know that." **  
  
**Tom gave a sobbing gasp, his eyes rolling up and his lower lip caught in his teeth as he tried to deal with the bundle of emotions that was obviously overwhelming him. **  
  
**"I want this to work," Chris said, noticing that his voice had dropped significantly. "I... I really... really want to give this a try." **  
  
**"Being with _me_?" Tom asked. "Oh, Chris." **  
  
**"You're pretty amazing," Chris said lightly. "It wouldn't be so bad." **  
  
**"I'm a bloke," Tom pointed out. **  
  
**Chris shrugged. **  
  
**"You're married." **  
  
**"That is, indeed, the bigger problem," Chris acknowledged. He let his thumb run over Tom's wrist, noticing that the other man's pulse had picked up quite a bit. "But... it is... it just..." He blew out a breath. "It just doesn't change a thing about how I feel," he simply said. "I can't change how I _feel_. And..." He was at it, he might as well finish, "and I really don't want to, either." **  
  
**By that time, he was already in Tom's arms, the older man having swung up and unceremoniously wrapped himself around Chris, just holding him, really tight, their heads pressed together. **  
  
**"You make me so happy," Chris mumbled into Tom's shoulder, and felt Tom's responding shuddering laugh. **  
  
**"I want you to be happy," Tom said. "Okay? If nothing else, I... I really want you to be happy." **  
  
**They just held on to each other in a crushing embrace, neither man saying anything, each reveling in the strength of the arms holding them. Chris realized that having a counterpart like this, someone he could roughhouse with and not be afraid to crush them if he was actually playing out his strength, was oddly liberating. Also, Tom was no wilting flower, and perfectly capable of holding his own and that allowed him, Chris, to just be weak every now and then. Not having to be the pillar all the time... that felt really good. Chris had had no idea that that had even been a problem, but when that weight was lifted, his soul wanted to take flight. **  
  
**"I keep finding more reasons to want to be with you all the time," he said, inhaling Tom's scent. "I mean, if you don't want me to do that you could just stop being so damn perfect." _For me._ He really wanted to say it but didn't dare. **  
  
**"That would be really stupid of me, now, wouldn't it?" Tom said, and Chris felt him chuckle. **  
  
**They both lifted their heads and Tom looked at him with a smile in the corner of his mouth, then kissed him quickly on the lips. "I need to think about this," he said. "I... I can't just say 'let's go for it'." **  
  
**"No," Chris said. "That wouldn't be you." **  
  
**"But..." Tom took a deep breath. "I would be completely untruthful if I pretended you leave me unaffected... and not just sexually." Tom must be getting deep into his feelings for his language to become so abstract again. "But building a life together? Announcing in public that we're a couple, that..." His brows shot up. "Chris, that is a whole other thing. Even _if_ that happened, I... I wouldn't want Elsa to be humiliated... and you have your daughter to consider... all that. That would be a huge step. Huge. That is nothing to be taken lightly." **  
  
**"I'm not. Taking it lightly. At all." Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks for the reality check, though. I think I needed that right now." **  
  
**Tom nodded. "Chris, you... you've made me realize, in one night, that being so afraid of something that has handicapped me my whole life, was pretty pointless. There is nothing to be afraid of when I make love to you. On the contrary, it's pretty amazing." He gave him a lopsided smile. "Don't get too cocky about that, though." **  
  
**"What, I'm not getting to brag with this?" he teased mildly. **  
  
**"Not yet." Tom bumped him gently. "I still have no desire to suddenly dress in pink skinny jeans and flap my wrists, though." He laughed. "I must be Chris-sexual. If I wear a t-shirt, it'll say 'Turned on by Hemsworth', and that's it." **  
  
**"Hm, 'Turned on by Hemsworth', that kinda works," Chris agreed. "However... which one? What are you not telling me about you and Liam? Or is it Luke? I'll have to have a word with them!" **  
  
**Tom laughed. "I once saw a picture online of you and me where we were each wearing one of those gay pride shirts – obviously a fake. The one I was wearing said 'I love Chris Hemsworth – Get over it.'" He laughed. "You were wearing the one saying 'I love Tom Hiddleston'. Where do people get those ideas, really?" **  
  
**Chris gave him a look. "Are you serious? 'I love Chris Hemsworth and Chris Hemsworth loves me' – I'm quoting you, here, buddy. I was hearing nothing but that for weeks on end. My brothers didn't let me live it down! I've had some very... eh... concerned calls by my dad." He chuckled, thinking back on that. He didn’t look forward to having all those talks _again_. **  
  
**"Oh!" Tom had the grace to blush. "But... but I meant in a purely platonic... brotherly... way... oh, god." He chuckled helplessly and dropped his forehead against Chris' shoulder. "I'm such an idiot, am I not?" **  
  
**Chris rubbed his neck affectionately. "Tom, if you weren't every now and then, I think we would all kill ourselves." **  
  
**Tom looked at him, that expression of fondness on his face that Chris so loved. It had had to be pointed out to him by others that Tom did this often when they were around each other, but he had never thought much about it. Maybe he wasn't the only idiot in the room. Maybe if he had just kissed this man a long time ago, he would've never married Elsa and things would be a whole lot easier now. That they weren't didn't make his feelings ring any less true. **  
  
** **“** I think we’ve both been idiots,” he said. **  
  
** **“** Or has it just been really bad timing?” Tom asked, reminding him that Tom had been involved with someone when they had first met. **  
  
** **“** Like our timing is better now.” Chris sighed. “Why now?” **  
  
** **“** I was pretty miserable without you,” Tom confessed unexpectedly. “While I was off shooting Lovers... really miserable.” **  
  
** **“** Is that why you look like a stick now?” Chris asked. **  
  
** **“** Don’t flatter yourself.” Tom winked at him. “Maybe.” He shrugged. “Possibly.” **  
  
**They fell silent again, and then Tom said: “So we are talking about... you could really imagine this going further, not just this one weekend, not just... you know.” **  
  
** **“** Could I imagine... I don’t know what to imagine, just that I don’t want it to be over after this weekend.” The enormity of what they were talking about was finally catching up with Chris, and he just hugged his legs and rested his chin on top of his knees. “And I’m not the affair type.” **  
  
** **“** So basically, it’s either all or nothing?” Tom asked. “Would you honestly give up Elsa and India – for me?” ****  
  
He shouldn’t say it. He _should not say it_. “Yes.” Chris was at once relieved and horrified. “I would give them up to be with you.” Fuck, at what point had he decided to keep talking?  
  
Tom kept looking at him. "Just so we're on the same page here, you would go ahead and get divorced from Elsa. Risk losing custody of your daughter, or at least see her a lot less than you do now. You would out yourself in public and would risk being perceived as a gay man, with all the consequences that might entail. You may lose roles because of it. Advertisers may not want to use you any more because it might upset their clientele. You would risk upsetting your whole family. All of that because of one night with me."

 Chris felt something akin to ire rise in his gut. Did Tom have to spell it all out in such horribly gruesome detail? "You're cruel," he growled.

 "I'm realistic," Tom pointed out. "I want you to be aware of what you're saying, Chris!"

 "Is this just because you still think that being gay is such a horrible thing?" Chris asked. He was really upset now. "Are you that afraid to be seen with me in public?"

 "This is not about me," Tom said. "You are risking your whole _life_ for an idea of something that you don't know how it may end. Maybe you and I end in complete and utter disaster. Maybe after the novelty wears off, this will turn stale and you will ask yourself why you gave it all up for an idea. You may end up hating me for it."

 "I hate you a little bit right now," Chris said. "And you still haven't answered my question."

 "And I told you I need to think about it a little longer, but I've got to say, adding 'home wrecker' to my resume was not exactly on my list of things to do!" Tom blew out a frustrated breath. "That I'm even considering it makes me hate you a little bit right now, too!"

 They both stared at each other, jaws set and eyes ablaze, and Chris thought: _This is our first fight_ and _Good lord he's hot when he's angry_. He did at no point dismiss the fact that Tom had said he was at least considering it. _I can fight with you until the end of time as long as you consider it_ , he thought.

 Before either one of them could say anything else, though, Tom's phone rang. Chris thought it was the funniest thing that Tom's phone rang to the theme of _The Avengers_ ; the level of nerdery implied in that fact made him grin every time. He raised a brow at Tom. "Are you going to get that?"

 "I hate you," Tom said, giving him a look, but got up and walked over to the coffee table where he had left his phone. He was glaring at Chris across the room when he picked it up. "It's Rebecca," he said when he saw the caller ID. "She's probably calling about tonight." He touched the screen and put the pone to his ear. "Hello?"

 Sighing, Chris lay down on his back, his hands folded behind his head. Tom had mentioned over breakfast that he had scheduled this evening to spend with Rebecca, which miffed him a little bit. He would've liked to have him to himself, but he could hardly ask Tom to cancel on his friend, who had looked forward to the evening for several weeks now. There had been a bit of a kerfuffle about landing a last-moment ticket to the screening for him, as well. They only had a limited contingent of seats in a very small theater, and Luke had ended up giving up his seat to Chris so he could come, making some last-minute calls about Chris attending, which was – fortunately – happily received.

 All Chris really wanted was to hold hands with Tom in the theater and make out while the film ran – considering how high-profile they were, and with Rebecca along as a chaperone, a rather unlikely prospect. At least he had had his choice of restaurants in which he would do his best to fatten Tom up a little bit tonight.

 "Um, yeah, the movie starts at 8.30, they'll have a short reception beforehand, so we should be in the clear when we arrive there at 8," he heard Tom say. "By the way, Chris is coming along, is that okay with you?"

 If it wasn't, Chris had a few choice things to say.

 "Excellent. I know he's looking forward to seeing you."

 As if.

 Tom laughed at something Rebecca said. "Um, I don't know, would _The Bumpkin_ be okay for you? It's right around the corner from _The Electric_. We could walk there, actually." He listened for a moment and then said: "They have great pudding. I'm just saying rich chocolate mousse on gingerbread topped with caramel sauce." He laughed. "And the pies are to die for. When should we pick you up? 6.30? 6.15? That sounds great, we'll leave at 6 here, then." Tom inclined his head. "No, it's casual. Make it upscale casual and you should be in the clear." He smiled. "That's fine. Really looking forward to seeing you, darling. Talk to you later then. Bye."

 "Daaaaarling," Chris intoned from his spot in the sun. "Why do you never call me that?"

 Tom let the phone drop to the table and strode over to where Chris was still lying on his back, his legs drawn up. "Because you're not anyone." Without thinking about it, he straddled Chris' hips, bringing his ass in close contact with Chris' general crotch area, his knees almost in his lover's arm pits.

Chris looked up at him, knowing that he was sporting a pretty goofy grin. "Are we done arguing?" he asked, letting his hands run along Tom's taut thighs. Tom caught them and pinned them to the floor beside his head, his face suddenly really close to Chris'.

 "I honestly should... I should really throw you out, you know that?"

 Chris waggled his brows at him. "Why don't you, then?" His hips twitched, pressing upwards against Tom's weight.

"Aw, fuck you, Hemsworth, really. Fuck you." Tom closed his eyes and blew out a frustrated breath.

 Chris used the moment to free his hands from Tom's grip. One went into his lover's hair, the other slipped unceremoniously into the back of his jeans, grabbing his tight ass. "Yes," he said, pulling Tom down into a kiss. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

 When Tom neither resisted nor struggled, he knew that not all was lost.


	9. Rocky Shores

It had begun to rain, and Tom was ducking under his umbrella as he walked swiftly from the front door of his house to the cab waiting outside. The back door opened and Chris blinked at him. 

"Want to take my bag inside?" he asked. With his right hand he fished for the overnight bag lying beside him on the seat.

"You could have asked the driver to take it," Tom laughed. "But sure. Be right back." He took the bag and swiftly carried it back to the house, depositing it just inside the front door. There was little reason to believe someone else would take it while they were gone.

Tom ducked under the umbrella once more and hurried out. Chris was right on time, six on the dot, and he slid into the cab beside his friend, shaking the umbrella out the door and then collapsing it and putting it at their feet. Once the door was closed, he told the cabbie Rebecca's address and got buckled in.

"You all right?" he asked, turning towards his friend. "Chris?" It was fairly dark in the cab, but he could clearly see Chris looking dejected, and reached out to press his hand. "What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, Chris dug his phone out of his trouser pocket. He turned it on, chose a video file, and passed it on to Tom.

In the darkness of the cab, Tom watched as a video of India opened. She was excitedly kicking her arms and legs as an older man held her afloat in the water of what looked like a private pool, making screeching noises that made Tom grin. The little girl was obviously having the time of her life, especially when the man – presumably her granddad – lifted her up and let her kick at the water, creating great splashes, some of which landed on the lens of the camera filming her.

" _Are you having fun?_ " he heard Elsa say. " _Hey little girl, want to say hi to Daddy?_ "

India let out a particularly high-pitched screech, wriggling in her granddad's arms.

" _Do we miss Daddy, honey?_ " India waved excitedly at the camera, kicking the water. " _Yes we do, don't we?_ "

The picture cut off to then reveal – on a cleaned lens – Elsa and India in the water together. Presumably, the grandfather had stepped out to hold the camera, as Elsa was holding the little girl by the hands and let her stand in the shallow water, then lifted her up to India's delight, and, with water fountaining everywhere, let her plunge back in. She gathered India in her arms, who started gnawing on her jaw, and waved at the lens. 

" _Hey Chris,_ " she said. " _Wish you could be here. Hope your work goes well, we can't wait to come back and see you. However,_ " there was suddenly a wicked glint in her eye, " _The weather is definitely better here, so I'm not sorry we're not shivering in London with you!_ " She laughed. "We _love you. See you soon_!" She waved at the camera, and, holding one of India's pudgy arms, made her wave at the lens, as well. " _Let's show Daddy what great splashes you can make, huh?_ " 

She took India under her arms and let her swing back, just to dip her toes into the water on the way back down and splash a great wave directly at the camera to the music of gales of laughter from both her and India. 

The video closed there and the screen revealed Chris' background photo of his wife and baby, shot just after India's birth. Tom held the phone in his hands for a moment and then handed it back to Chris.

"Did Elsa send you this?" he asked.

Chris just nodded, swallowing on a dry mouth. He turned off the phone and put it back into his pocket.

Tom wasn't quite sure what to do. "Is there anything I can do? Chris?" He put his hand on his friend's shoulder, solely concerned with Chris' state of mind. Chris was usually a positive, easy-going guy; seeing him so hurt and dejected pained Tom greatly.

Chris gave him a forced smile and caught Tom's hand in his as he shook his head. He kissed Tom's knuckles and then just meshed their fingers together, holding Tom's hand firmly in his own.

Tom threw caution to the wind, unbuckled, and scooted over to Chris' side, pulled him closer and made him rest his head on his shoulder. There was nothing he could say, nothing to ease this pain, but he kissed his temple and just held him, letting Chris know that he wasn't alone.

He felt acutely that to offer that he could still simply step aside would not help matters at all. If Chris was not so convinced he wanted to start a life with him, Tom, he wouldn't be in so much pain in the first place. Pulling away his only support would make matters worse right now.

"I love you," he said. "Whatever you do, okay? I hate to see you in so much pain."

Chris gave a short nod and pressed Tom's leg, then let his thumb stroke it idly. "Just caught me really unaware," he said, his voice still choked. "That I've got so much to lose."

"Yeah." Tom didn't say _I told you so_. He was worried, but this was neither the time nor the place for it.

"I don't want to lose them. I still want them in my life," Chris said. His eyes were blankly staring ahead of him. "I hope they won't hate me." His eyes closed and he let out a dejected breath as he was settling deeper into Tom's embrace.

Tom's heart was bleeding as he held him close and placed a kiss on his hair. "It's very hard to hate you," he said. "Very hard." 

He had tears in his own eyes as they slid through night-time London, the rest of the world totally unaware of the drama taking place in the circumscribed world of this cab. For a long moment, he considered calling Elsa or texting her, asking her to please not break her husband's heart. But that would be wrong, it wasn't his place to tell her what was happening between them; he felt Chris had to do that when he was ready. But the secret began to gnaw on him; what they shared in private felt exhilarating and wonderful, but became this twisted monster as soon as it was brought to light. That wasn't a situation he'd be able to live with for long, if at all. He was by nature a terrible liar, and so was Chris. The easiest way to live, for both of them, was to do it with integrity. If this stayed a secret, they would both break on it, he was sure of that.

For once, he was quite happy that to reach Rebecca's house took the full 15 minutes he had planned for it. When he recognized the main street heading to her neighborhood, he shook Chris' shoulder gently. 

"Love," he said. "We're almost there." He was relieved to see that Chris straightened and adjusted his jacket, giving him a grateful look. "Are you going to be okay?"

Chris nodded curtly, but his features gentled and he reached over to cup Tom's face in one hand. "You're a good soul, brother." He leaned forward and captured Tom's lips in a kiss, one that caused Tom's toes to curl and certain parts of his anatomy to make themselves known. He didn't stop him, though, letting the flow of affection nourish both him and Chris to its full measure.

"We're almost there," he finally whispered, for the first time worrying whether he was showing any outward signs of what was transpiring between them. But they clung on to each other for a moment more, until the cab drew into Rebecca's street, and Tom could see the lamp outside her house shine on her umbrella'ed form. "There she is."

"Tom?" Chris held his hand before he could scoot away.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"Okay." This, more than anything, made Tom's eyes fill with tears. "I love you, too." He kissed Chris once more, and then straightened himself and slipped into the role he was supposed to play for the rest of the night.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"And then, like the tit I am, I let my cape get caught in one of those giant wind machines!" Chris roared with laughter. "An army of Dark Elves and Thor gets knocked out by his own cape!"

" _No capes_ ," Tom imitated Edna from _The Incredibles_. " _Nooooo capes!_ "

"Aren't they protected by these meshes?" Rebecca asked, popping another mushroom in her mouth.

"Well, there are different kinds of meshes and this one wasn't exactly cape-proof," Chris said. He pushed his platter of entrees over to Tom. "Here, I'm done."

"Thanks." Tom flashed him a smile and pulled the well-appointed platter of ham hock with assorted vegetables closer. They'd both already had the soup of the day, but Chris had ordered extra, and was now sharing with Tom. Most of his platter, mind you.

It was a clever ruse. Tom was going to humor him and bite.

"So what happened then?" Rebecca asked, fascinated. "Did you get pulled into the rotators?" Her eyes were wide with curiosity.

"Well, fortunately, it's a clip-on cape. We have these huge shoulder pads that kind of lead the cape forward and then clip into the chest armor," Chris explained, gesturing towards the general area between his shoulders and pecs.

"The scene where Odin casts him out in Thor," Tom helped. "Remember? Just takes those clips right out."

"They're designed so they don't get in the way of us running. Well they do get in the way every now and then, but never as bad as I've heard from others." Chris shook his head. "Anyway, I hear the clang behind me, there's a tug, and I'm flat on my ass, getting dragged a few centimeters until the clips finally give way."

"It happened to Thunderhead," Tom quoted _The Incredibles_ once more. "You two have a lot in common: tall, storm powers, nice man... No wonder it happened to you."

"I heard he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, either." Chris laughed and took another swig of his wine. "Dunderhead."

"Did your costume survive?" Rebecca asked.

Chris winced. "Not really."

"Man, I wish I had been on set that day!" Tom sighed. "They didn't even have the cameras rolling yet. A priceless moment, gone to ruin." He swished his bread through the sauce left on the plate, then popped it into his mouth. "This..." he pointed at the plate. "Was delicious. Thanks for letting me try, Chris."

"My pleasure." Chris flashed him a smile.

"What were you up to that day?" Rebecca wanted to know. "Getting strung up in some gym?"

"No, actually, I was watching films for the BIFA committee," Tom said. "A long, hard day with fellow film buffs watching brilliant and not so brilliant movies."

"The horribly hard life of the film judge," Rebecca laughed. "Sorry if I'm not sorry."

"I'm really feeling privileged to be in that position now," Tom said, seeing Chris give the waiter a signal that they could bring the main course. "I mean, if they hadn't loved Joanna's work back when, or at least gave it a chance, who knows? There wouldn't have been anything on my reel when I went to the States."

Rebecca, whose main focus lay in stage work, nodded. "Been auditioning for a new play at the National last week," she said. "It doesn't look too bad, actually."

"That's fantastic!" Tom raised his wine glass. "Cheers."

They all clinked glasses. "Cheers."

As they set down the glasses, the main course was brought. Tom had let Chris order for him, and was now very pleased that he was settled with a braised lamb shoulder in scented red wine. Chris was having a quarter pound sirloin and had ordered extra on the skin-on chips, while Rebecca had the Crispy Gressingham duck. They all tucked in while the waiter was exchanging the white wine for red, and sounds of appreciation were heard around the table right after.

"This is really very, very good," Tom complimented towards the waiter. "Please let the cook know we love the food."

"Certainly." The waiter smiled and straightened, the tray with glasses and empty wine bottle in his hands. "Is there anything else I can bring you?"

"I think we're fine for the moment but we'd love to have coffee after dinner," Tom said.

"I could do with a large glass of Coke," Chris said. "I think it'll help me with that steak."

"I will be right back." The waiter swished off.

"Brute," Tom said, winking at Chris.

"You try to digest this," Chris said. "I need the Coke's help."

"Uh-huh." Tom had another piece of lamb and closed his eyes in appreciation. "This is _so good_. It's so tender I hardly have to chew. Excellent choice, Chris."

"Glad you like it." Chris smiled at him. "How's your duck?" he asked, pointing at Rebecca's plate.

"Lovely, thank you." Rebecca smiled. "The salad is particularly good."

It was quiet around the table for a moment as everyone was busy enjoying the meal, until the waiter returned with Chris' Coke.

"Thank you." Chris flashed him a smile and took a large gulp. "Ah, better."

Tom finally remembered that they had been in a conversation before the food came. "What play do they want to cast you in?" he asked Rebecca.

"Actually, they're putting on a Rattigan play – _The Browning Version_ , do you know that?" 

Tom shook his head. "No. Always wanted to read all of his other work, but never got to it."

"I'd be playing Millie. Her husband is a strict schoolmaster whom she finds rather boring, and she cheats on him with one of the other teachers."

Tom laughed. "I think Rattigan had a pet theme there," he said. "Hester had a similar history."

"Yes, but she tried to kill herself over not having the man she wanted," Becca pointed out. "Millie is of hardier mettle. Her lover flees in horror over her treating her husband so badly."

"Interesting. I'll have to read it, then. Love to see what he'd do with a pluckier character."

"I've also looked into auditioning for the Globe and the RSC. The Globe starts casting in January; I'll have the agency send them an invitation to _Nora_." She mentioned the Ibsen play she was starring in in a small independent production beginning in two weeks. "The RSC wouldn't be too bad, really, I think it would do me good to get out of London for a while."

Rebecca and her boyfriend of ten years had recently split up, leaving her feeling rather lost. Tom had loved taking her along to several outings, and introducing her to people who might be useful in furthering her career, but also to simply distract her a little from her predicament. This was one of the reasons why he would never have canceled on her tonight, knowing that she might otherwise stare at the walls in her flat, pondering her existence, and that would simply not do.

"I'd never dare," Chris said. "Kudos to you for going for Shakespeare."

"His language is so beautiful," Rebecca said. "It's a privilege to have that for a season's run."

Tom exchanged a knowing glance with her. "That's true."

" _Now entertain conjecture of a time_ ," Rebecca quoted a passage from Henry V, " _when creeping murmur and the poring dark..._ "

" _...fill the wide vessel of the universe_ ," they finished together.

"Hmmm," Tom closed his eyes in appreciation, letting the words melt on his tongue like a connoisseur. "Better than old wine."

"It is," Rebecca nodded. "And don't forget, _Small time, and in that small most greatly lived this star of England._ " She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "You were wonderful in that, Tom."

"Thank you." He blushed a little, pleased. "It really was a privilege."

"A well deserved one."

He smiled at her, and then his eyes went to find Chris', who was smiling indulgently at him from the other side of the table.

"Don't look at me," Chris said. "I can't even retain next week's lines at the moment, much less do not just one, but three histories in succession." He shrugged. "I've just never been a theater person."

"Shall we shun him now or later?" Tom asked Rebecca, who laughed.

"He's nice and entertaining, let him stay."

"Very kind of you," Chris said good-naturedly. "I will try not to disappoint."

Tom wanted to reach over and press his hand, but remembered, in the last moment, that he couldn't, it would attract too much attention. He settled on a fond look, one in which he hoped he'd put as much love as he could, but of course it wasn't the same.

"Actually," he pointed out, "We've been rehearsing his lines for the big scene on Monday and it's going really well." He suddenly felt Chris' foot on his calf and started, then shook his head at Chris and laughed. "How was your workout earlier?"

"He put my lines on my phone and had me listen to it while I was working out in the gym before I got here," Chris said. "I'm sure the other hotel guests working out in there thought I was some kind of lunatic, mouthing my lines while doing reps." He took a sip of his wine. "But it kind of works, I think I have them down now."

"Glad I could help," Tom said. "I have big plans for tomorrow's rehearsal."

"Wait, aren't you staying over at his house for the weekend?" Rebecca asked Chris. "Why were you at the hotel?"

"I needed to get some clothes; it's been rather on short notice," Chris said. "Basically, he kept falling asleep on me last night, so we made it a weekend."

"Nice." Rebecca nodded, looking from one man to the other. "Tom is a great coach."

"Yeah." 

"It's really nice that you two get along so well, given that you're in about every movie together," Rebecca said.

Chris shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess." He smiled at Tom. "But yeah, it's cool."

"Yeah, it is." Tom had the distinct feeling that the air started to get a bit thick with love. He had the hardest time suppressing a rather goofy grin that he knew was spreading across his face, and quickly busied himself with cleaning his plate, while under the table, Chris was playing footie with him. It would've been laughable if the situation wasn't so serious. If this was their test drive about how well they would deal with appearing together in public without letting on that they were an item now, this was no other than an epic fail. But he just couldn't help himself, being with Chris, having his attention trained on him, just made him happy. It always had, but now... he sighed, and then reached for his glass of wine and had another sip, which did not really help.

"I think I could use a glass of cold water," he remarked. "I'm a bit warm."

"I'm on my way to the men's room, I'll let the waiter know to bring one." Chris scooted back from the table and got up, walking around Rebecca and past Tom on his way to the desired location. And as he passed him, his fingertips tickled along the nape of Tom's neck, leaving a wave of arousal in his wake.

"Thanks, Chris." Tom's voice sounded comically high, and he had another sip of wine to mask it.

Beside him, he could see, out of the corner of his eye, how Rebecca primly put her used utensils and her napkin on the plate, indicating that she was finished. She paused a moment, contemplating, and then looked him straight in the eye.

"I hate to be so horribly direct," she said. "But Tom – are you two sleeping together?"

It was a good thing he had already swallowed the wine, because otherwise he would've spewed it across the table. "W...what?" He blinked at her, still not quite understanding what she had said.

"You two have always been ridiculous," Rebecca said. "I know you've always had this fanboy crush on him, which I can kind of understand, mind you. But this..." she indicated Tom and Chris' empty seat, "This, Tom, is a whole other league. What is going on?"

"I... I'm... I'm not sure what you are talking about," he was stalling for time. This was worse, so much worse, than he had thought.

"I'm not going to rat you out," Rebecca said, putting a hand on his arm. "Tom, relax. I'm just worried about you."

"Worried?" He tried to laugh, but it sounded fake. "Why?"

"Because you're head over heels in love with him." She rubbed his arm in a reassuring motion. "It's all over your face and your body language."

He shrugged uncomfortably, not really knowing what to say. He couldn't tell her she was wrong when he knew she was so damn right. 

He'd felt it start in his bones last night, and with each succeeding hour that Chris had kissed him good morning, had come back after talking to Elsa, that they had dozed in each other's arms, wrestled, teased, made incredibly hot love, cleaned each other, the blue of his eyes over breakfast, the way he would just use Tom as a pillow as if he already owned him, the way he could feel Chris' voice in his whole body as they rehearsed the lines, how they had argued, each in such close contact with the other, the way they had made up and kissed and... in every moment, he had felt himself falling, deeper and deeper. 

Had first wondered at how he could feel that way, then wondered whether he should stop, scrabbled, really, for some sort of purchase, perspective, argued with Chris, this afternoon, so he would finally gain some, wake up, see things as they really were. He had thrown everything at Chris that he could come up with, daring him to end this, daring him to say that it had been a fun weekend, but that it would would be over after... and all Chris could say was that when push came to shove, he was even ready to give up his family to be with him. When faced, this evening, with the exact shape and size of that loss, all he had to say was that he hoped they would not hate him. And then he had kissed Tom and told him that he loved him.

Him.

It was completely ungraspable in its magnitude. Like opening a door to that side of him had let in a tidal wave that he had completely lost control over and that was now sweeping him off his feet, out the door, and into the vast unknown. And he was completely unable to stop it. And at this point, he wasn't sure that he even wanted to.

"Tom, I really don't mean to pry..." Rebecca started again. "But if he’s leading you on, Tom.. he’s with someone after all. I don’t want you to get hurt!”

"But you are prying, aren't you?" That she was so close to the truth made him defensive. "You're making observations, and you're implying things, but you know nothing."

She sat up, blinking at him. "Tom, I've known you for eight years now, you're not exactly a box of secrets to me," she said. "I've seen you fall for Susannah, live. I know what it looks like when it happens." She indicated his whole body with her hand. "And this, my friend, is much worse than it was then."

He groaned, burying his face in his hand. "You have no idea what you're saying," he said, his voice muffled by his hands.

"Darling..." Rebecca touched his shoulder. "If it's any consolation, he's as bad as you are. Do you think I would ask otherwise?"

"You're joking." At this point, he just wanted to disappear on the spot.

"He's been giving you puppy eyes all night," she continued. "Tom, talk to me. What is going on?"

"Nothing!" His voice was louder than he had intended. "Becca, just stop with this!"

She looked at him, steadily, making him incredibly uncomfortable. She had that effect on him, would not budge on something that she'd set her eyes on. "Tom, I'm not judging. Do I look like that? Just... if you need someone to talk... I’m here. This can't be easy."

"I'm not discussing this with you." His voice had taken on an edge that made her look up in surprise. "Enough." He slammed his fork on the table. He regretted it in the same moment, both because this was not how he liked to behave - he could hardly stand himself when he got angry - and because it was a clear indication how much this upset him. He didn't like giving people a target to hone in on. "Enough," he said, much quieter, and then took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He wasn't successful. "If you'll excuse me, please, I really need some air."

It was inexcusable to behave like that. It was inexcusable to just get up and leave her alone at the table, without company. But oh, she was making him so angry right now; and he just didn't have any defense against her too-close-to target questions that he was just not ready to answer yet.

"Tom..." She put a hand on his as he stood up, but he just pulled it away. "I'm sorry."

He nodded curtly at her, but just walked away.


	10. Jumping The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's make or break for Tom and Chris as each man must choose whether being with each other is worth facing the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry this has taken so long. As with any chapter in which I need to figure out what Tom is feeling, he's been playing hide-and-seek with me. This time for all of seven complete drafts. *headdesk* This was the toughest one to write so far.
> 
> Hope you'll find it's been worth the wait!

"Tom?" Chris closed the door carefully, and looked around. The _Bumpkin_ 's abandoned summer terrace was lying in shadow, only the light coming through the windows upstairs illuminating it. In the back, by the banister, he saw a shape, leaning against the wall and looking out at the stars. "Tom?" he tried again. It was cold, and Chris shivered.

"I'm over here," came the quiet response.

Chris set out across the terrace, his steps echoing on the flagstone. He'd had no real idea of what would await him out here, just Rebecca's rather out-of-sorts request he might want to go and see if Tom was okay, because he had left in the direction of the summer terrace, quite angry and upset with her. Imagining Tom in either state was difficult at the best of times, but Rebecca didn't want to say what they'd been fighting about, looking rather uncomfortable at his questions.

When he got closer, he could see that Tom's posture didn't really invite intimacy, so he settled for leaning against the banister close to where Tom was standing, looking at his lover's face lit by muted light. It set off a strange feeling inside his chest, a twinge of the heart and a subtle longing, which he did not quite understand.

Just an evening ago, at the same time, they'd been best bros, and now he was standing here, looking at Tom, and he couldn't understand how he'd never seen this. He felt a little foolish and even awkward, and he never had felt like this around Tom, but... but he was just so damn beautiful. And Chris had, for some reason, no interest whatsoever to snap out of seeing that. At all.

"Hey," he said finally. "Are you okay?"

He saw Tom bite his lip and shake his head.

"Want to tell me why?" he tried.

Tom, his arms across his chest, finally looked at him, and gave him a small smile, one that intensified the twinge in Chris' chest many-fold.

"I'm fairly sure you wouldn't like it," Tom said. His brows contracted, as if he was arguing with himself whether he should give his reason away or not.

"Give it your best shot." Chris really wanted to reach out to Tom by now, feeling that something had changed and that the sense of "together" that had permeated their whole day had somehow been interrupted. Tom had removed himself from it.

"I'm really not sure I'm ready for this," Tom finally said, quiet desperation painted on his features. "I wish I was, but..."

"Ready for what?"

“Going public with this... being called on being with you... kind of like... everything.” Tom exhaled.

 _Oh._ Chris pulled a leg up and wrapped his hands around his knee. His heart contracted uncomfortably.

“I just completely lost it just because Rebecca asked me if we were sleeping together,” Tom said. “I hardly recognize myself any more and it just... doesn't feel... good. Or right. Or anything like me.”

Chris’ brows shot up. “Now that’s a direct question if I've ever heard one.”

“She thinks you’re leading me on, Chris.” Tom shifted his posture so he was leaning his back against the wall, turning his front towards Chris.

“I’m _not_ leading you on! Christ.” The accusation really made him angry. “ _I’m not leading you on!_ ”

“Chris, when you came home with me last night, we were just friends! I’m... it’s all happening so fast, and... and... if we really go through with this, it has so many life-changing consequences for each one of us... how can we be sure this is the right thing?”

"How can we be sure?" Chris shook his head. "Really? Is that your question?"

He got up and stepped closer, reaching for Tom, as the other man, to his relief, reached for him, and they slid into an embrace, and Tom finally exhaled and leaned his head against his shoulder, moaning against it in frustration. It made Chris smile, and he ran his hand over Tom's hair, then rested it at his neck, rubbing it gently.

"Because of this, Tom," he said, his own voice rumbling in his chest. "This is why."

Tom just groaned desperately into his shoulder, but he didn't try to pull away.

Chris just held him, his own head leaning against Tom's, while his thumb drew circles under Tom's ear. It should have felt foreign, maybe even wrong, but it just didn't. Tom's slim, muscular body in his arms felt more than right, it felt _perfect_. Like he should be there, exactly there.

"You know that I love you, right?" He asked, when there was no reaction from Tom.

Tom drew a breath, but hesitated on the response, then finally nodded. "It's a very difficult concept for me to grasp," he admitted.

"Because I'm a man?" Chris asked carefully, willing to go wherever Tom needed to go, if he just kept talking.

"No." Tom shook his head, and then finally looked up, searching his eyes. "It's because you're you." It sounded like that admission had taken quite an effort, but Chris didn't quite understand.

"What do you mean?"

Tom actually blushed. "I think I've had a horrid crush on you since the moment I met you," he admitted. "Of the _admire from afar_ kind." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "I mean, you're not really supposed to, you know... actually pay attention to me orlove me back." He grew quiet. "I wasn't prepared for you to love me back."

"It's not too bad that I do, though? Is it?" Chris still wasn't sure of the terrain, probing gently in which direction Tom was trying to take him.

Tom looked down, his whole body shaking.

"Tom, please, talk to me." Chris grasped his arms. "It gets my stomach in knots to see you like this!"

"I'm falling in love with you," Tom whispered, so quietly that Chris wasn't sure he had heard him right the first time.

"What was that?"

This time, Tom looked straight at him, his expression stormy. "I'm falling in love with you, Chris. Hard. It scares the shit out of me."

It took a moment to percolate, but then Chris wanted to jump up and down and cover Tom's face in kisses and start a fireworks, all at once. But Tom's expression didn't exactly invite it, so he held back, even though it was really hard to do.

"Why does that scare you?" he asked.

Tom was really upset now. "Because I'm losing my judgment, and I'm losing control, and I'm considering doing things I never thought possible I'd do, and I'm... I hardly recognize myself! Just yesterday, being gay was the great fear of my life and tonight, I made such a spectacle of myself in there that my best friend had to ask me, right-out, whether I was sleeping with you, and... Jesus!" He exhaled, and took a step back, out of Chris' embrace. "This is just not me! I don't know how to do this!"

Being physically separated hurt. Seeing Tom in so much pain hurt even more. Chris' heart was beating so hard he thought it would spring out of his chest. He was desperate to say, to do something to make it better, change Tom's mind. He could not lose him, not like this, not when they'd not even given this a try.

“Tom..." He finally said, scrambling not to go out of his mind. "Are breaking up with me?”

Tom snorted, and shook his head. His hands on his hips, he gave Chris a look that he had a hard time deciphering. "Would that I be that strong a man."

Chris didn't dare let out the breath he was holding. "What do you mean?"

Tom gave a desperate laugh, rolling his eyes skywards. "Chris, I can hardly keep myself from falling to my knees and begging you not to go back to Elsa. I've become a hypocrite and a liar and someone who sneaks around behind someone else's back. If that is what loving you makes me, tell me, what makes it worth it?"

There were so many little things going on, too many for Chris to keep track of. What Tom was afraid of was years of indoctrination, and losing control, and Chris didn't know what to do about either one of them, because he, personally, relished being swept up like this. But there was one thing, one thing Tom mentioned that he might be able to do something about and, knowing that he was trying to jump the abyss, Chris took a deep breath and tackled it.

"We're not sneaking around anyone's back, Tom. Tom." Chris moved in, grasping both of Tom's hands with his, looking imploringly at him and then decided, there was no way back. He had to jump, not knowing where he would land. "Tom, Elsa knows something happened last night. I told her this morning, after I got up. She knows, all right?"

Tom just stared at him, uncomprehending. "She knows?"

"Yes. And you know what she said? She said she'd been expecting this to happen for quite some time. She was not surprised."

"Why would you tell her about this?" Tom's voice was nearly toneless. "Chris! How could you do that?"

Could he do nothing right? "I didn't mean to. We talk every morning on the phone when we're not in the same place, and within three sentences, she just called me on it. She's my wife for a reason; she knows me pretty well."

"Oh my god." Tom staggered the few steps to the banister and then fell limply against it. "She knows."

Right that moment, Chris decided that keeping secrets from Tom was the worst thing he could ever do. He kneeled in front of him, one hand on his knee, rubbing it. "Listen, Tom, you did nothing to break us up. I was the one who kissed you last night. If I hadn't... maybe you would never have dared."

Tom shook his head. "No. I was so desperate to make love to you."

Chris smiled. "Me, too. Trust me. I really wanted to make love to you, too." He pressed his knee. "I don't have the answers, Tom. I really don't. But what's done is done. Even if you and I broke up, and I would try getting back with her, I doubt Elsa would ever trust me again. I could go back to her, but nothing would be the same, and I would still..." he swallowed, "feel for you what I do. And she'd know. That won't go away."

He could see that Tom's eyes filled with tears. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think it will." His brow contracted and he shook his head, and then said: "I don't know what to do, Chris."

"I know, love, I know." Chris joined Tom on the banister and put his arm around his shoulders, relieved when Tom let him, and simply leaned against him, his arms snaking around Chris' middle. Chris kissed his forehead, frantically thinking of how he could ease Tom's burden. He didn't know how. "Tom," he said, his heart breaking. "Do you want me to go away? Leave you alone? Because right now, it seems to me as if I'm bringing you more pain than anything else, and it's breaking my heart."

Tom was quiet for a moment, and then said: "No."

Chris tried to keep his reaction in check, but the sense of relief was incredible.

"You're right, it wouldn't solve anything, would it?" Tom laughed self-deprecatingly.

"No, not really. Not at this point."

"The damage is already done."

For the first time, the full impact of the consequences of his actions hit Chris. Not only had he cheated on his wife, he had also made Tom believe that he was destroying his marriage, and laid an incredible burden of guilt on someone who was doing his very best to live a positive, honest, considerate life. Someone whose own parents had divorced when he was a child, someone who knew exactly the price everyone paid for that. Who had already paid it once. Whom he was now asking to pay it again.

"Tom, I can't do this. I can't in all good conscience make you go through this if it gives you so much pain." Chris grasped Tom's hand and kissed it. "I can be pretty oblivious, and being with you is making me incredibly happy. It's easy to forget that you may not feel the exact same way, or trying to bully you into something that you don't want to do, just because I want it." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "You've been telling me that since this afternoon, and I didn't want to hear it, because..." He blew out a breath. "Because it was just so perfect, and it felt so good and I..." He paused, searching for words, "And I've wanted you so much. Still do."

Tom had straightened as he spoke and was now staring at him, the intense look from those expressive eyes making Chris shiver.

"Chris, just shut up. I told you I don't want you to leave me. Do you never listen?" Tom shook his head at him. "If I could just let you go, if this wasn't something that... that tugs at the center of my being, seems so _necessary,_ so completely unavoidable... Chris, you make me feel as if I've never had any idea what love _is_." He worried his lower lip. "And you don't get to take the whole blame for everything, because... because I think I've wanted you since I first set eyes on you, and it took me forever to act on it, and.. and if I'd have done this sooner, had been man enough to admit to myself that I... if not gay, that I could have feelings of that nature for a man, and that it was okay to act on them, then you... and I... may have done this a lot sooner, before you even met Elsa, and all this heartache could've been prevented. I'm not letting you shoulder this alone. And you don't get to claim first kiss because if I hadn't been so irresistibly drawn to you that night, and had not wanted to watch you sleep and kiss you on the cheek, nothing would have happened."

"I would've so made love to you this weekend," Chris said, entwining their fingers. "Whether you'd have done that or not."

Tom blew out a breath, watching their joined hands. "Yeah, me, too. I wanted to touch you so badly."

There it was, the bare naked truth. They looked at each other.

"I want to be with you, Chris. It horrifies me that I could be so selfish, and that I have to deal with discovering sides of me that I have had a pretty good time avoiding. It horrifies me that my happiness will break someone else's heart, that I could be capable of causing that amount of pain, and yet... I can't help it, I want you... with all that I am, and all that I have. It scares me to pieces, but there it is."

Chris was completely speechless. Tom had been so argumentative and skittish since this afternoon, had thrown every impediment, every reason that was speaking against them being together in his face, repeatedly, was obviously in tremendous pain over having to hurt Elsa and had a horrible time adjusting to the idea that he might, in fact, be in love with a man, and yet here he was, bravely standing up against that storm, facing it, ready to work through everything that would be flying at him, just because he wanted to be with him.

"Isn't there... Tom, isn't there anything about this that doesn't scare you?" Chris asked. "Anything? How do you expect to live with this if it makes you suffer like that? I know I couldn't." He cupped Tom's cheek in his hand, running his thumb over the other man's cheekbone. "I wouldn't want you to."

Tom held eye contact with him as he turned his head and kissed Chris' palm. "I want this," he said. "I want you."

It was such an erotic sight, Chris moaned softly in response. "Trust me when I say I want you, too," he said, his voice rough. "Tom... there is no question about it for me. But I don't think it will change who I am... I'll just love you more than I did before. Do you understand? And I think for you, it'll change everything."

"Maybe it's a change that's been long overdue." Tom kept holding his eyes.

"And maybe you're perfect the way you are." He leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I love you, but I feel like I'm asking too much of you."

"You keep offering to step back, as if you needed to protect me from you," Tom said. "You already did that last night. I think I can take you – no stepping back required, okay?" He lifted a hand, and, with a quirky smile on his lips, let his fingers run through Chris' hair. " _You_ don't scare me. Damn, that hair is pretty. And so silky."

Chris smiled. "I _knew_ it."

"I will still keep making fun of it," Tom promised him lightly, a brow raised in challenge. "But it is really pretty." His fingers raked through the golden locks, scratching Chris' scalp lightly until the younger man felt he wanted to purr.

"I want to take you home and make love to you," Chris said. "Just forget everything for a while."

"I've made a commitment to be at the screening tonight," Tom said. "We need to go. At least I need to go. With Rebecca." Suddenly, he shivered. "Oh god, I still don't know what to say to her!"

"Then let me do the talking?"

"You would?"

"Yes." Chris took Tom's hand and held it in his, rubbing it lightly. "Since her major gripe is with me, and she's trying to protect you from me, it may be a good idea for me to set the record straight." He placed a kiss in Tom's palm. "I honestly have no idea how to keep my hands off you for the whole evening."

Tom looked at him, and then finally said: "I think I would feel more comfortable admitting how I feel about you if you weren't... racing ahead all the time. You've got it all figured out already... I can hardly keep up."

For a moment, Chris said absolutely nothing, just playing with Tom's hand, tracing his fingers one by one. He didn't look up when he said: "When I give in to how I feel about you I don't have to think about the consequences."

"And what consequences might that be?" Tom asked softly.

"I might lose my family and that just hurts... they mean the world to me and I can't imagine them not being my life any more." He lifted Tom's hand and smoothed his cheek into it. "It really hurts."

"I know." Tom let his hand slip behind Chris' ear, scratching him softly. "I... I don't know if this helps, but I'll be with you every step of the way. I... whatever you decide to do, I will back you up. Unless you decide to just drop them like hot potatoes and forget about them. I could never... forgive that."

"I'm not that kind of man." Chris took a deep breath and realized, he really wasn't. "I... I want them in my life, still. I still want to take care of them, and I want to see my daughter grow up."

"Then we'll find a way so you can do that." Tom breathed a sigh of relief. "God, I'm so glad to hear you say that."

"How crazy is that?" Chris drew his brows together. How lucky a man was he? "I really don't deserve you, Tom."

"I'll remind you of that occasionally," Tom threatened lightly, but then grew serious. "I love you, but we need to be real with each other."

Chris winced. "That sounds like work."

"If this is supposed to be more than a sleepover, it's what it takes." Tom said firmly. But he seemed to realize how dejected it made Chris feel. "But if it is any consolation, I'd much rather be at home making love with you, too."

"Oh." It brightened Chris' mood considerably. "Have any ideas how?"

"Yes." Tom smiled smugly.

"Share?" It was amazing how his heartbeat picked up and his mood improved at the mere mention that this gorgeous man in front of him wanted to make love to him.

Tom laughed. "I'm afraid that if I started to tell you what I have in mind, I'll either be ravaged against that wall in short order, or be afflicted with a permanent hard-on for the rest of the night."

He wasn't all that wrong, Chris had to admit. It was incredible what Tom could do to him with a few words. "I wish I could say you were wrong with that," he groaned. "God." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not a slow riser with you, either." He laughed.

As an answer, Tom ducked his head and kissed him... languidly, deeply, with just enough promise to make Chris' toes curl and his heart pick up its beat significantly. He tasted so damn good, so _Tom_. Chris wanted to tell him that he wanted to taste that for the rest of his life, but didn't dare to, knowing he was racing ahead again. But he did clutch to the back of Tom's head, putting every bit of feeling into the kiss, telling Tom without words how much he meant to him, how much he wanted to be with him, how much he promised he would stay.

They broke the kiss eventually, hands buried in each other's hair, foreheads connected.

"Looks like we're stuck with each other for now," Tom said gently.

"Looks like it." Chris kissed the tip of the other man's nose, then straightened. "Oh god, this feelings stuff is really wearing me out." He rubbed his face, then stretched. When he next looked at Tom, the other man had an interesting expression on his face. "What?"

"Nothing." It was a rather high-pitched squeak, though. Tom stood rather abruptly, looking a little confused.

"Hey, hey, hey." Chris also stood up, catching his friend... or was it boyfriend now?... around the middle. "What's going on?"

Tom laughed, his cheeks turning red. "Still trying to avoid the all-night-boner, love." Unceremoniously, he let a hand slide into the gap between Chris' shirt and trousers. "You pulled that out when you stretched."

Chris hissed sharply and caught that hand before it could go further. "I get it," he whispered hotly into Tom's ear. "Truly." For a moment, they just stood there, both breathing heavily. "Let's make it a game," he said into Tom's ear. "One that only you and I know."

"A game?" He could feel Tom trembling against him.

"We don't want people to know yet, right?" he asked, knowing how his hot breath against Tom's skin must affect him.

"No," Tom said softly. He was seeking his eyes. "Not yet. Let me have you for myself a little longer."

"Good." He leaned in once more, letting his tongue flick against Tom's lobe. "We will try to be as inconspicuous as we possibly can. How about I pretend I'm guarding you all night against unwanted attention?"

"Oh..." A shiver went through Tom. "Are we role playing?"

"It's what we do for a living, remember?" Chris reveled in the game and the heightened tension it brought with it. He smiled lazily at Tom. "We can try to sneak in as much body contact as we possibly can, but it can't look like we're lovers."

"You're a devious man," Tom said, but gave him an admiring look. "A very, very devious man."

"Do you think you're up for it?"

"Yes." Tom's hand against his stomach shifted, and he felt his trousers go a little tight. What this man did to him was honestly disconcerting. And delicious. He felt out of breath.

"I was just going to suggest whoever goes hard first is the loser but... I'm already losing."

"Chris..." Tom's voice sounded strained, and Chris felt him trembling. "Oh god, I'm so close to just..."

"I know." Chris caught Tom's hand and removed it from his stomach, then kissed his knuckles, looking meaningfully at Tom. "Me too, trust me."

Tom blinked. "I think I'm going to have to use the bathroom before we leave."

Chris grinned. "My, my, my. You're jacking the game before it's started."

"To calm down," Tom said firmly. "Not what you're thinking." He tried to furrow his brow in discontent but couldn't help laughing at Chris' waggling brows. "Not that I'm not tempted, but no." He put on a devious smile and was suddenly very close to Chris. "Why should I touch myself if I have you to do it so much better for me."

"Oh... you..." Chris sputtered, now completely undone. He watched Tom walk away from him, towards the door, hips swaying. "Okay, round one is yours." He hurried after him. "I can't wait for round two!"


	11. Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that I'm making up characters left and right. I have no secret information about Luke's orientation, Steve just fit the story.

"Hey." He could see that he had startled Rebecca, and Chris immediately held up a hand as she swiveled around to see who had been speaking. "I come in peace," he said. "Do you have a moment?"

"I've just been waiting for you two... where's Tom?"

"The loo," Chris said lightly. "He'll be right back." He pulled out Tom's chair and straddled it. "We need to talk."

Rebecca's nostrils flared and her jaw set. "What about?"

"Tom and me. And your suspicions."

Faced with him, she seemed rather subdued, turning her wine glass lightly between her fingers. "Has he asked you to talk to me?" she said, a little defensive.

"No, I offered, because it really upset him what you said."

She raised a brow at him. "So he needs you to protect him from me?" she asked acerbically. "I was just stating the obvious." She didn't feel more comfortable talking to him about it than he was. "You were flirting with him all night."

It made him smile. "That I did."

"So you can't blame me for jumping to conclusions!" She huffed out a frustrated breath. "Damn it, Chris – what are you thinking? He's head over heels with you..."

"That's a good thing because I feel the exact same way about him." He felt heat rising from his chest to his face. Actually _coming out_ with it was different than admitting it to himself and Tom after all, he realized.

"Since _when_?"

He didn't have a single answer that would not make them look like complete fools, he suddenly realized. "Probably for a while," he said. "Just never acted on it."

"Oh you two are just complete idiots. Any blind man could've seen that ages ago." Rebecca quickly covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry, that just slipped out."

He shrugged, and laughed a little about himself. "No, you're not the first person to say that," he admitted. "It's all just happened," he said lightly. "We're still figuring it out."

"Chris..." she leaned forward. "Tom is one of my best friends, and he's one of the best people I know... I really don't want to see him hurt."

"Trust me, neither do I." It didn't mean he could prevent it, though, and that smarted.

"He seemed very upset and hurt when I tried to talk to him about it earlier," Rebecca said. "Are you sure you two are on the same page?"

He was very glad that he had had that talk with Tom just a few moments ago, or he wouldn't have known what to say to that. "Pretty sure," he said. "He's just..." He laughed deprecatingly. "He's just more aware of what it will look like in public when this comes out. I'm just a love-sick loon."

“So you are serious about this?” she asked. “Oh, Chris.” It was clear from her expression that she knew what that would mean for his marriage. He'd expected chiding, but all he could see in her face was compassion.

“Yes.” His chest contracted uncomfortably. “Very much. So you can cool your heels, I’m not leading him on. On the contrary.” He was painfully aware of what this would look like in public. Having to talk about it felt like having to bare something really private and vulnerable, something that he didn’t really want to give away yet. “We're just trying to keep it under wraps until... until we've figured some things out."

Her brows shot up. "Chris, if this is how you try to keep it under wraps, all I can say is, it isn't working."

He scratched his neck. "Yeah, I just figured it wouldn't matter with you, because you're his friend... I kind of stepped into that one."

She inclined her head. "Got into trouble for it?" she sympathized.

"Eh, no, not particularly. I don't think he realizes I was flirting with him all night. He was upset at what you said, not at what I did."

"That's big of you, to blame it all on me." She was shaking her head, but seemed more amused than upset. "Talk about the devil." She raised her chin, looking past his left side, and sure enough, Chris could hear footsteps approaching.

He looked over his shoulder, his heart picking up its beat when he set eyes on Tom, who just looked unbelievably dapper in his dark jeans and boots with one of his beloved black cardigans over a white collared shirt. They locked eyes and Tom smiled at him, which made Chris' heartbeat problem worse.

"Luke called," Tom said, waggling his phone for both of them to see. "He's sending a cab. We're running kind of late."

"What time is it?" Becca asked.

"Ten to eight. We need to be there in ten minutes." Tom came to a stop right beside Chris. He pocketed his phone and put a hand on Chris' back, right below his neck, rubbing the spot lightly. Chris was fairly sure that it wasn’t an unconscious gesture; Tom was too aware of the implications. It was subtle acknowledgment of their connection, and the fact that he tried to become more comfortable with showing it in public. It felt good, and still slightly unnerving, the warmth of Tom’s hand sending bolts of pleasure through Chris that he was sure were easily readable on his face. "I'm sorry I made our evening run short, Becca."

"It's your loss – there will be no pudding now," she deadpanned.

Tom rolled his eyes. "You really believe all I think about is dessert?"

"Yes," Chris and Rebecca said as one, then all three of them laughed.

"Touché," Tom said.

"I'll get you some popcorn at the venue," Chris said, getting up. "Wouldn't want that sweet tooth of yours to go to waste." If this was how he was going to feel all night as soon as he was in Tom's proximity, this would be a very long night indeed.

"Yours is even longer than mine, so shut up." Tom grinned and cuffed his shoulder. "Would you mind taking care of the tab?"

"No, not at all. Meet you in the cloak room?" Chris understood that Tom needed a few moments alone with his friend, and hoped he had cleared the road a little for him.

"Yes." His eyes were so close, and fairly sparkly. Chris reached out and rubbed Tom's stomach affectionately as he pushed past. "See you in a moment." He saw that Rebecca had drawn out her purse, but shook his head at her. "Please let me take care of this," he said. "My treat."  
"Thank you. I really don't expect you to."

"Don't mention it." He waved her away. "And you," he said to Tom, pointing a finger at him, "I'm expecting a full English tomorrow morning for holding you out, or I'll be cranky."

Tom laughed. "You'll have it."

Tom’s eyes lingered on Chris’ back until he had disappeared around the corner, then shifted his attention back to Rebecca. For a moment, they just stared at each other, neither one really knowing what they should say, until he took a deep breath and finally said: "Becca, I'm sorry I got so angry. I guess you hit a bit too close to home, and I'm just not... comfortable with it all yet." The confession took a lot out of him.

She nodded, tapping her fingers on the table. "Can I tell you that you two are adorable with each other or are you going to storm off again if I do?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, god." He laughed and hid his face in his hands. "It'll take me a while to get used to that."

She stood up and touched his shoulder. "Sweetie, I want you to be happy," she said. "I'm sorry I was so pushy earlier, I was just really worried about what was going on."

"Hell, I'm worried," Tom said, blowing out a breath. "Nothing but worried since this started. I'm getting rather sick of it, to be honest."

"But is he making you happy?" she asked.

"God, yes. Ridiculously so." It just tumbled out of him, and he didn't want to hold it back. He knew that goofy grin was back on his face, but he didn't care. "I don't think I've ever felt like this about anyone before." It felt really good to talk to someone about this, he realized. Share how good this made him feel, instead of concentrating on what difficulties came with it.

"Well, maybe... maybe then it's what's supposed to be, you know?" She squeezed his shoulder and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "Then I'm really happy for you."

"Don't you..." he asked, leading her by the small of her back as they left their table behind. "Don't you care that he's... you know... a man?" His heart started thumping in his chest uncomfortably. He was still afraid of her answer, even though she didn't show any signs of being uncomfortable with the fact that they were both men.

She didn't answer him right away, carefully navigating the steps to the cloak room. Only when they were there, and he had carefully helped her into her coat, did she turn around to him and took his hands. "Tom..." She hesitated a moment, then looked at him. "While you were out there, I had a moment to think about it. I have to admit, it... it took me a little by surprise, because I've never thought of you as..."

"Gay?" he said, the word still wanting to choke him.

"Being involved with a man. And I have to admit, it takes a moment to get used to it."

"At least you're honest about it." He'd much rather have her voice her feelings than just put distance between them, not telling him why. "Trust me, it'll take me a moment to get used to it, too."

"I don't feel it makes me a particularly great friend, to be honest," she said wryly. "Just the thought of you being lost for the female population of the world... I'm not going to be the only one who's going to be a bit cranky about that."

That made him laugh. "Never thought about that."

"You should." She elbowed him gently. "But other than that... Tom... I realized something." She blew out a breath. "You are such a kind, sweet man, and you're so eager to do things for others. I know you do things for me all the time, and I think... I think I've forgotten to appreciate it the way I should."

"What? No! It's no trouble for me at all, and I love to help!"

"That's just it, you have no idea how extraordinary you are," she said. "But he knows." She nodded at someone behind Tom's back, and he figured that Chris was approaching. "Better than anyone else I've seen you with. You take care of everyone, but he's the only one you let take care of you, and Tom... you've really earned it, and that's how it should be."

Before he could answer that, Chris had stepped into the room. "You two ready to leave?" he asked.

"Just need my coat..." Tom said absentmindedly, his mind still chewing over what Rebecca had just said.

"Sure." Chris picked his jacket off its hook and held it for Tom to slip into it. "Here you go."

He could see Rebecca suppress a smile at that, stepping back so Chris had enough space to move. _I told you so_ , she mouthed at him. _Keep him_ _._

 

* * *

It was still raining when they stepped outside. The cab was already waiting, motor running, and they climbed into the back, where Tom gave the address to the driver, then settled down beside Chris. Rebecca had taken the opposite bench. He didn't know whether he really liked that development; that she would so easily defer to their new status, then his eyes were drawn to an inconspicuous white carton to Rebecca's left. "What's that?" he asked.

"Oh." Chris smiled. "I asked the cook to bag something for us." He reached for the carton and opened it. Inside, nestled in nine separate compartments, were nine small, yet perfectly decorated cupcakes in different flavors. "I figured it would be a good idea to get to the screening well-fueled," he said, offering Rebecca first pick. "We should be able to finish these off in time."

When he turned to offer the carton to Tom, his leg pressed hotly against his, and he gave him a smile that caused his stomach to flip-flop. "No apple strudel flavor, sadly," he said. "Have some chocolate?"

"Are you afraid I'm going to attack the populace when not hopped on chocolate?" Tom asked lightly. The cupcake was delicious and melted on his tongue, and he sank into the seat with a blissful hum and a smile. "Gorgeous."

"Have another. I'd be careful with your violent tendencies." Chris grinned, licking his lips after having swallowed a cupcake in two bites. "Rebecca?"

"You really are trying to fatten me up, aren't you?" Tom chose a light colored one next, discovering a zesty lemon flavor with a lovely cream filling when he bit into it.

Rebecca laughed at the sounds he was making as he was tasting it. "Tom, you sound completely indecent."

"It's _so good_. Oops." A smudge of cream had fallen off and now clung to his chin. "Not cab friendly, this one.." He tried to lob the bit back into his mouth with a finger, smearing it even more, and laughed. "Those will be great publicity photos. It's all your fault." He smacked in Chris' general direction, finding his hand caught and when he tried to pull it free, caught one look from Chris' incredibly blue eyes and nearly choked. He could clearly read in that expression how much Chris wanted to suck that cream off his finger, and then lick it off his face, and how hard it was for him to hold back and not do it. His breath became a little short and he blinked. _This one is going to you_ , he mouthed. Chris waggled his brows at him and grinned suggestively, which did not help in the least.

Fortunately for both of them, Rebecca completely missed that moment as she was rummaging through her purse for a wet wipe. "Here you go," she said, thrusting it at Tom. She then craned her neck to see where they were going. "We just turned into Portobello," she said. "Only a few lights to go."

Tom's heart was still beating triple time when he slowly extracted his hand from Chris' grip and then slowly and meticulously cleaned his hand and chin with the wipe. He purposefully did not turn toward Chris but Rebecca and asked "All clean?"

"As god made you."

"Another?" Chris offered the carton again, the rumble of his voice pleasantly in Tom’s ear.

Rebecca laughed. "Which ones were the ones with the cream filling?" she asked, her hand hovering over the cupcakes.

"There were three of each flavor," Chris said. "Tom?"

"Might as well, while I'm still holding this." He waved the wet wipe, then fished out the last of his cakes and deliberately looked at Chris while eating it, daring him to do it again. Chris gave him an insolent smile and a raised brow while polishing off his cake, and then it was Tom's turn to say: "There are crumbs in your beard, Hemsworth."

Chris' look clearly said _Want to eat them off?_ but he brushed his hand over his beard a few times and had Tom inspect him and pronounce him presentable.

"Thanks," Tom said, giving him a smile. "That was a perfect idea." And found his hand on Chris' knee, rubbing it with his thumb, and honestly, not giving a damn whether Rebecca saw him do it or not.

"My pleasure." Chris' hand found its way to the small of his back, touching him lightly.

"I can see Luke at the curb," Becca said. "He has his _Where hast been, Hal?_ face on."

Tom laughed. "I'm not usually running late." He took a deep breath. "Becca, you're my date, okay? All photo opportunities are with you; it's your evening."

She shot him a grateful look. "You sure? I'm sure they want to take a few photos with the Odinsons...?"

Chris shook his head. "I'm staying back with Steve," he said, "until we're inside. I'm not even officially here. Andrea would not be amused." He mentioned his own publicist.

"Steve is here?" Rebecca clapped her hands. Luke's boyfriend was warm, funny and they all loved him. "That's wonderful!"

"Yeah, since I got Luke's seat, they're going to see a movie at the _Odeon_ and come back here after to babysit us. It would've been cruel to have Luke sit out the screening in the diner on his own until we came back."

"That's great, I haven't seen him in a while. I'd love to catch up!"

They slowed down as they approached the designated spot. Rebecca shifted in her seat, straightening her blouse as she got ready to open the door. Tom used her turned back to turn to Chris. He smiled at him, and then simply leaned in and kissed him. "See you in a few."

"Yes." His eyes shone, and Tom was glad he had dared it. "Now go get 'em."

The cab came to a halt, and the door was opened. Luke stuck his head in: "Where have you been?" he asked, his usually so innocent and calm-looking face furrowed in concern.

" _With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four score hogsheads_ ," Tom said cheerfully. "Great to see you, too, Luke. Sorry we’re late."

"Hi Chris!" Luke raised a hand. "Steve's waiting for you twenty meters back. The cab's going to let you out there."

"Great."

"Now out with you two. They're already waiting."

Chris watched Rebecca and Tom climb out of the cab, the rise of voices outside suggesting that – like at most venues – a fair number of autograph hunters and fans had found out about the screening, and were now waiting for them to sign before they went in. The silence was deafening when the door closed again, and he found himself scooting to the door, checking through the tinted windows how things were going for Tom. He knew they were late and Tom would only be able to sign a very few autographs, which often had the effect that people got upset and started hurling insults, and that was something he really hoped wasn't going to happen today.

He felt a little like a tiger in a cage when the cab stopped a second time.

"Thanks, mate!" he threw in the driver's general direction before the door opened and Steve's face appeared. "Steve!"

"Chris! Come out, join the sane side of the mob." He made way for Chris to climb out, and the two men hugged and clapped each other's back. "Great to see you again. How are you? How's the wife and kid?"

"They're both great, thanks for asking." It hurt like hell. "Visiting the in-laws in Spain, so Tom's putting me up this weekend," he explained. "How have you been?"

Steve was a lawyer and headed a consulting firm in the City, always entrenched in some foreclosure or another. Both he and Luke were very busy men, so they grabbed chances to go out together whenever they could, and Steve would accompany him to functions often.

"Fine, fine, fine," Steve said. "Just back from skiing in Austria, actually. I heard you went to Iceland with _Thor_ recently?"

"Yes! Some country. Breathtaking." He turned to see whether he could still see Tom, who was now entrenched in a number of autograph dealers. They were an unavoidable nuisance, but this bunch looked like they weren't going to take no for an answer. "Wait a moment," he said to Steve. "I want to see them get through this all right."

"Ah, yes. They've been waiting for hours, we were told," Steve said. "Keeps you wondering how they know about these things ahead of time, really. Especially when it's supposed to be a private screening?"

"Fans are resourceful," Chris said. He saw that Rebecca had moved on to the main door, waiting patiently for the other two, and Luke was about four feet away from Tom, separated from him by the bunch encasing him.

Fortunately, as Tom was giving autographs, one by one they peeled away, and Tom could move over to some fans who were waiting patiently, gifts, photos and cameras at the ready. Chris let out a breath. He'd been in those with Tom a few times, Tom always so giving that he was sometimes taken advantage of, and Chris had gently butted in and got him to a safer location. It looked like he wasn't needed today. He still waited to see Tom wave at the crowd and throw some air kisses, grinning from ear to ear, and then moving into the main doorway with his little entourage.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go. Iceland. Yes."

Accompanied by an usher, they pushed through the deserted lobby of the cinema, and then through a number of corridors to reach the reception area from the back while chatting amiably about Iceland and Austria, comparing skiing opportunities.

"I only got to go snowboarding a couple of times with the guys," Chris said. "I was actually working most of the time while up there. If you want to talk skiing, talk to Tom. He spent so much time on the slopes that he got such a horrid sunburn you could still see it a week later."

Steve laughed. "Living la vida Loki," he joked.

"Exactly." They were lead upstairs into the _Electric_ 's club area, which had been reserved for the reception for the night. The theater only held 83, so the crowd was not too bad. They spotted the others at the far end of the club, where Tom and Rebecca posed for photos together. As many times as Tom had taken her along to such publicity venues, Rebecca still looked a little shy and uncomfortable in photos, but Tom had told him that she was personable in one-on-one talk and had made some useful contacts in the past few weeks.

"Drinks?" Steve asked.

"Sure, why not?" They walked over to the bar. "Should we order for everyone?"

"I know what Luke will have."

"I know what Tom drinks and I'll try a lucky guess with Rebecca," Chris said, remembering that she had particularly liked the white wine that had accompanied the entrees. They ordered, and by the time the drinks came, the intrepid party was finding their way back to them.

Chris handed Rebecca her wine. "So are you finding the crowd useful?" he asked while reaching for Tom's drink. He watched Tom approach, then pushed the drink along the bar so Tom had to smooth up against him to reach it. Tom gave him an amused grin but did just that, his torso sliding against Chris' back, making him tingle appreciatively.

Rebecca laughed. "Useful is funny. I'm trying not to die while talking to famous people."

"She does that pretty well," Luke said, lifting his drink. "Cheers."

They all clinked glasses.

Time was spent chatting amiably about their time in Iceland and different projects everyone was planning to do in the near future. Chris liked the company, finding himself watching Steve and Luke interact with more interest than he ever had before. He had no definition of himself as "gay", and did not feel the pressure to fit into that particular label, but the two men might be able to give him some clues how "normal" male couples behaved in public, so he might be able to emulate them. He'd never consciously thought about it, and figured out fairly fast that in their interaction, they did not differ much from most heterosexual couples he knew.

He, himself, had a bit of a hard time keeping his hands off Tom, the other man always by his side, finding excuses to bump into him or brush against him, keeping their body contact constant but casual. What he really wanted was to be able to stop pretending they were best friends, just leave his arm draped around Tom without having to wonder whether they were "caught" or not, not having to keep his reactions in check all the time, and let the feelings he had for Tom reflect in his expression. Instead, he caught himself not daring to look at him too much in case someone would catch on to how love-sick he felt about him. It was incredibly frustrating, and he began to resent the whole situation.

The producers of the movie came by to chat and shake hands, and asked whether Tom and Chris would be available for a photo together – a private memento that they both readily agreed to. At least it gave Chris an excuse to wrap his arm around Tom's shoulders and have the other man's arm around his waist. But he was really rather grumpy by the time a gong alerted everyone to the fact that the movie would start in a few moments.

"You're doing fine," Rebecca told them as they slowly made their way to the theater. They had said their goodbyes to Steve and Luke and moved as a group, and Chris used the moment to put his hand on Tom's back, pretending to lead him around, but just glad to be able to feel his warmth through the fabric. "I don't think anyone notices anything different."

"I wish they were," Chris growled under his breath, but bit back his next words when he saw Tom's eyebrows shoot up.

"I've got something for you," Rebecca said, producing the ticket that contained her seating number. "I’ve checked the seating arrangements, and they put Tom and me into one of those two-seaters in the back, and you – that was Luke's ticket – in a one-seater right before them. Let's change so you two get to sit together."

Chris, who had not even noticed that particular arrangement, was very happy to hear that. "That's really nice of you, thanks." He blinked. "Unless you object?" he asked Tom.

Tom bit his lip and raised a brow at him, then shook his head. "Are you sure it'll be okay, Becca?" he asked.

She waved him off. "It's fine, don't worry about it. I'm here to meet people, aren't I? And I already know you two."

"That's true." Tom smiled. "Fine, let's do that, then. Thank you."

Chris and Rebecca exchanged tickets and in the crowd moving to the theater, Chris felt Tom's hand around his, his thumb caressing the inside of his palm "What's wrong?" Tom asked.

"Nothing I can change on the spot," Chris said. He pressed Tom's hand and then let it go, concerned that people might see them and draw their own conclusions. Having to hide was starting to take its toll, and he noticed that he was getting a little upset with Tom for insisting they'd come here in the first place instead of going home. This mood was so foreign to him that he had a hard time realizing what was going at all.

He could see Tom tap Rebecca's shoulder and saying something to her close to her ear, and she turned around, looked at both of them and nodded. "Don't stay too long."

"We'll be there." He then looked at Chris and grasped his arm. "Come with me, brother."

Tom lead him around a corner, where they moved away from the din, and he could finally hear his own thoughts again. "Where are we going?"

Tom flashed him a smile. "Somewhere private."

"We're not going to the men's room, right? I mean, how much tackier could we get..."

"No." Now that they were out of sight of the crowd, Tom grasped his hand, which felt really good. They moved towards two gilded glass doors, and once they'd pushed through, it was a lot colder, but also very dark, and Chris realized they were in the lobby of the cinema, by which way he had entered the party earlier that evening, and was now closed to the public.

"Private," Tom said. "No one will look for us here. We've got until the second gong."

Chris simply pulled him close, needing the other man's arms around him like he'd never needed anything before. "God, I'm sick of hiding," he said, loving how natural it felt for Tom to slide into the embrace, his hands under Chris' jacket, nose buried against Chris' neck. "I just needed to feel you for a moment."

Tom just moaned into his neck. "Tell me about it. This is torture."

Chris turned them around and settled Tom against the wall behind him, then made him look up and kissed him. What started as gentle, exploratory kisses had them soon move against each other, hands sliding under shirts or grasping for purchase against well-muscled backs, both men completely oblivious to the time ticking away. Chris' whole world was comprised of this incredible man in his arms, the way he whimpered into his mouth when he brushed against certain spots, and seemed to turn into liquid, moving his surprisingly flexible body against Chris'.

"God, if we're keeping this up, I'm going to come." Chris bit lightly into Tom's lower lip and let it slide through his teeth. "You're fucking delicious."

"If you're expecting common sense from me, I'm sorry," Tom panted, pulling him down for another bruising kiss. "God, I've never wanted someone so much in my life."

His words did somehow register with Chris, and he managed to catch Tom's hands before they were sliding to unbutton his jeans. When Tom tried to pull them away, he clasped them in one hand behind Tom's back, enjoying Tom struggling against him immensely. 

"Shhhh," he said, the other hand sliding into Tom's hair, kissing him. "Shhhh, Tom, slow down."

Tom whined, clearly frustrated. "I don’t want to slow down."

"Tom, is that really how you want it to be? Us having quick sex in a dark corner? Really?"

"Argh." Tom bumped his forehead against Chris's shoulder. "I'm sick of this."

"I know. I know. Me, too." He let go of Tom's wrists and grasped his arms, pulling him away until he could see his face, then kissed him again, gentler this time, until Tom's breath began to even out and he seemed a little calmer. The gong was going again, calling them into the theater, drawing a groan from both men.

"I have no idea how to sit still in a two-seater sofa with you for the next two hours," Tom said. "I want to go home and make love with you until neither one of us can walk any more."

His ardour made Chris smile. "That sounds like an excellent plan. I've been wondering how many times two men can make each other come in one night. If we take turns, it could take a while."

Tom groaned. "You are not helping."

"I don't mean to." He slid his tongue into Tom's mouth, kissing him deeply. "I want you to think about that while we sit in that theater and can't touch each other without causing a riot. I want you to imagine every single detail and tell me about it on our way home."

"I'll rip your clothes off the moment we get into that goddamn door," Tom swore.

"Hmmmm... I'm looking forward to that." At least he had Tom focusing on something other than ripping his clothes off and doing him right here. His cock was so hard it hurt and he knew that if they kept this up, he would come. The last time he had come unwillingly into his underwear had been half a lifetime ago, and he did not mean to experience that again right now. He was older now, more experienced, and usually had a pretty good grasp on managing his sexual urges. What was it, then, about this man that made him lose every bit of his control and waving at it cheerfully as it passed by?

"I'll take your pants off with my teeth," Tom threatened. "I'll have you no foot away from the front door."

"Fuck, I forgot what you can do with words. Fuck." Chris clamped a hand over Tom's mouth, ignoring the other man's outraged squawk. "No, shut up, Tom, or there'll be a permanent stain on those jeans for the rest of the night, thank you very much." He knew that if he moved even the slightest fraction of an inch now, if his cock even rubbed a little bit against the fabric of his boxers, it would be over.

Nothing but the hot panting of two very aroused men was to be heard for the next ten seconds until, very slowly, Chris realized that the chances of him coming in his pants were slowly diminishing, and he dared release a breath. "Goddamn, Tom, you need a license for that tongue of yours."

“Hmpf.”

He realized he was still clamping his hand over Tom’s mouth and hastily removed it. “Sorry.”

“Were you really that close?” There was a print of Chris’ hand clearly visible across Tom’s mouth. It looked, if Chris was honest, rather erotic.

“Yes.” It was pretty embarrassing. "That point definitely goes to you," he added wryly.

Something buzzed, and Tom started, then fished out his phone. “Rebecca,” he said after checking the screen. “They’re starting getting ready for speeches. We should go.”

“Okay. I need a moment.” He stepped away from Tom, towards the doors leading outside, and just rested his forehead on the cool glass.

“Chris, I’m sorry.” He heard him come up behind him, and a moment later, his hand on his back. “I didn’t mean to fluster you like that. Let's stop that stupid game.”

“I’m getting your bit about losing control,” Chris said against the pane, his breath fogging the glass. “Thing is you make me _want_ to lose control.”

“Just not here. I get it. I’m sorry.” Tom leaned his forehead against his shoulder, and let a hand slide around his stomach. “I’m sorry, I just can’t... not touch you.”

Chris couldn’t help but smile. “I’m noticing.” He wanted to turn around and kiss him again, but he knew where that would lead. Instead, he let his own hand slide along Tom’s forearm and then entwined it with Tom’s. Tom took it as encouragement and let his other arm join the first, smoothing himself against Chris’ back. He was clearly still hard, but did not press himself against Chris, which Chris was pathetically grateful for.

After a while, he turned around in Tom’s embrace, resting his arms on the other man's shoulders. “If I kiss you now,” he said, his brows raised. “Will you not escalate things?”

It made Tom giggle. “I promise.”

What followed was a rather chaste kiss, Chris very aware of his own reactions. The thing was, he _wanted_ to kiss Tom deeply, he _wanted_ to feel him move against him, he _wanted_ to escalate things. “Promise me we’re going home after the movie.”

“I promise. We won’t linger.” Tom kissed him one last time, then stepped out of the embrace and took Chris’ hand. “Those are going to be the longest two hours of my life.”


	12. Under Cover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris are being little shits ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely not safe for work.

Speeches were indeed already commencing when the two men arrived at the theater. An usher showed them to their seats and asked whether they needed anything, and both ordered non-alcoholic drinks, aware that alcohol would not help them keep themselves in check. Chris asked for popcorn.

“You’re kidding,” Tom said, but chuckled under his breath.

“A tub,” Chris said.

“Very well.” The waiter swerved off.

Tom looked at Chris. “I love you,” he mouthed at him. “You’re the funnest date.”

“The perks of taking out an uncivilized, bush-raised Australian,” Chris said. “I can be your excuse for _anything_.”

Tom tapped his lower lip. “The possibilities I had not yet considered.” He pretended to ponder the idea.

“... are absolutely endless,” Chris said. “Nice place. Very cushiony.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is plushy.”

“Thank you, Professor Hiddleston." Chris grinned at him and Tom had the grace to look a little caught. "How about _opulent_?”

"I’ll take that." Tom smiled at him."High marks for you.” The place was indeed opulent. Five rows of leather armchairs in rich red were framed by a row of plushy two-seaters in the front, and three two-seaters in the back, with a private bar occupying the space on the other side of the entrance. By some stroke of luck, they had secured the sofa on the far left by the wall, meaning that Chris’ bulk on the right prevented too much insight from the neighboringsofa.

There was an armrest in the middle, a cushioned roll, which Chris inspected. “Can this be removed?” he wondered.

Their waiter came around to bring their drinks, putting them on the small tables left and right of their armrests. “It can,” he said. “Should I help?” With a few moves, he unhooked the roll. “I’ll bring your popcorn around shortly.”

“Thank you so much.” Chris took a sip of his drink.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Tom asked under his breath, at the same time secretly shifting towards the middle until his leg was snug against Chris’.

Chris’ turned towards him and smiled, then leaned in on him to speak quietly into his ear. “I don’t think our neighbors can see me wrapping my arm around you once it’s dark,” he said. “If that’s okay?”

“Hm, you’re going to keep me wonderfully distracted, Hemsworth.”

Chris gave him a warning glance. “Behave.”

Tom sighed. “I’ll try.” But his eyes were dancing.

The crowd started clapping, signaling the end of the speeches. The light in the room was lowered as the producer got off the dais and the curtain opened. Tom looked around and realized that it would indeed be very hard for anyone to see what they were doing if they weren't consciously turning around to them, or, like the waiter, coming to serve them.

"I think we'll be fine for the duration of the film," he informed the young man when he brought the popcorn.

He nodded. "If you need anything, there is a button on the outside of your seat."

"Ingenious." Tom raised his brow. "Thank you, I'll remember that." He turned his head towards Chris. "This is lovely, we should come here again." He had seen that the theater was used to show regular movies if it wasn't booked privately.

"Uh-huh." Chris settled the - truly enormous – tub of popcorn on both of their raised knees. "Dig in." His left hand sneaked under the tub and slid along the inside of Tom's leg, settling near his knee.

Tom had to close his eyes and bit his lip to deal with how truly magnificent that felt. He heard the audience settle and the credits start, but he could not be bothered to care in the least, his world having shrunk to that one touch just on the inside of his knee. He wanted to simply disappear into that feeling of closeness and wholeness that being with Chris evoked in him. It was as if that one outburst on the terrace earlier had just released all of his concerns and worries; once they were out in the open, once Chris knew about them and was not scared like he was, he didn't have to be any more, either. Chris was the one person who mattered right now, the one person who was making Tom feel this way, the one person he wanted to be with more than anything in the world.

And the circumstances were maddening. Now that he had found his heart, he wanted to act on his feelings, not being encumbered by propriety and secret-keeping. He wanted to be free to show his affection, kiss Chris, or at least snuggle, put his head on his shoulder, have his arm wrapped around him, not having to sneak touches under the cover of an oversized – and boy, was it oversized – tub of popcorn.

The movie started, and they both settled down, nibbling popcorn and enjoying their closeness, touching lightly under cover. The movie was funny, the characters original, the dialogue crisp and the first splatter of blood soon followed, delivering on all the goodness that a Tarantino film promised.

And after half an hour, Tom had had enough.

"Chris, let's leave," he said quietly into his lover's ear. "I can't stand this a minute longer."

Chris' head swiveled around to him with a speed that made it look funny. He searched his eyes and mouthed _Are you serious?_

Tom nodded. "Are you willing to be my excuse?" he whispered. "I think there was something wrong with your steak."

Chris' eyebrows shot up. _I'll say anything._

Tom smiled. "Just be an actor," he whispered.

Chris smiled.

They both turned towards the screen again, watching the movie, but no two minutes later, Chris started to shift in his seat. If Tom didn't know exactly that he was pretending, he would have believed that he wasn't feeling well. While he was first just looking uncomfortable, he was then starting to sit forward, and then back again, putting the popcorn away decisively. He settled back against the cushions – it was really a rather sick expression on his face - and rubbed against his stomach, to then suddenly lean forward, looking pained.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, getting into the game.

Chris shook his head, his brow furrowed. "Not feeling well," Chris said. "I think I need to go."

"Okay." Tom looked worried.

 _Come after me in five minutes?_ Chris mouthed.

Tom nodded.

He made it to ten, but started to shift in his seat and looked worried before that, then finally got up and passed to the back door. The young waiter who had looked after them was standing there, and he approached him. "Have you seen my friend?" he asked.

"Chris Hemsworth?" the waiter said, proving that he knew quite well who he was dealing with. "I think he went out about five minutes ago. Asked for the men's room."

"Okay, thank you." Tom was just about to pass him, and then stopped. "Where is it?"

The young man lead him outside to the well-lit corridor and gave him directions, then slipped back inside.

Tom made his way to the location in question.

He did actually have to open the door and go in. The bathroom was as ridiculously luscious as the cinema, something he had seen a few times in the US, but not so much in England.

"Chris?" he asked.

"I'm here." It sounded really rather sickly.

"Are you okay?"

"Not feeling well. I think there was something wrong with my dinner."

"Do you want to wait it out?"

It flushed in one of the stalls, then the door lock turned and the door opened. Chris appeared, mimicking very convincingly someone who had just been sick and could hardly keep himself on his feet. "Would you mind very much if we went home?"

"No. No, not at all. You can lie down and I'll make you some tea."

Another flush went off, and a stall door opened, revealing one of the producers of the movie. He nodded at them and went over to the wash basins to wash his hands, then asked: "Is everything all right?"

"I think he's not feeling well," Tom said. "I am so sorry... I think I'd rather take him home."

"That's too bad, we loved having you." The man was so genuine that for one moment, Tom had a bit of a bad conscience.

"We loved to be here," Tom lied straight-faced. "That was a lovely reception and I'm really sorry to be missing the movie!"

Chris moaned, holding his stomach.

The producer took a step back. "If you want me to, I'll have them call you a cab?"

"That is so kind of you, we would really appreciate that."

"Sure, it's the least I can do." Obviously not keen on catching whatever Chris was suffering from, the man disappeared rather swiftly.

Tom and Chris looked at each other.

"You are so corrupting me," Tom said.

"It was your idea!" They both giggled.

"Great performance, though." Tom stepped closer and touched his stomach. "I want to give you a tummy rub now just to make you feel better."

"Hmmm... nothing speaking against that." Chris pulled him closer and kissed him. "You could rub something else, though..."

"Oh, _now_ he wants me to rub it..." Tom smiled into the kiss, his hand sliding suggestively towards Chris' belt, only to be caught by Chris' hand. Again.

"I heard that is all the rage in certain circles, but not my thing," Chris said. "Sex in public bathrooms, I mean. Everything else, have at it."

"I'll remind you of that," Tom said, wiggling his brows. "And I'm getting the idea that you're somewhat of a romantic, Hemsworth."

"Uh, tested and certified, I'm afraid," Chris admitted. "I just like to be put in the mood." He looked around. "And this definitely doesn't."

"I'd like to say at least I bought you dinner, but you paid," Tom said, a crease appearing on the bridge of his nose. "Is it okay if I light you a candle with your tea?"

"Just take me home." There was a certain urgency to his request, and Tom felt for a moment that he could easily get lost in the blue of those eyes.

"Yes," he said. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

The door opened, and Chris immediately got back into his "sick man" act. One of the party waiters stuck his head through the door.

"Mr Hemsworth? Mr Hiddleston? Your cab is waiting. I brought your coats."

"Excellent, thank you so much." Tom wrapped an arm around Chris' middle and supported him. Chris pretended to be weak on his knees and in dire need of support. It was so ridiculous, but Tom bit his lip and "helped" Chris to the door, where they were helped into their coats and ushered towards the exit.

Then Tom remembered something. "Do you happen to have a piece of paper?" he asked the waiter. "I'd like to leave a note for my friend, Rebecca Fallon – would it be possible to deliver it to her? I don't want to send her a text and make her have to take out her phone while the film runs."

"Certainly." The waiter whipped out a small pad and a pen, and Tom scribbled a message.

"Thank you so much. I really appreciate it." Tom also gave Rebecca's seat number, and then "helped" Chris to the cab.

They climbed in, and Tom gave his home address, then slid the partition to the driver closed and just looked at Chris. He was just about to open his mouth when he remembered something.

"Wait – I want to get this out of the way, then I'm completely yours."

Chris raised both brows at him, smiling. "Okay."

Tom whipped out his phone and typed a short text message. "To Luke," he explained as he hit "Send". "And now it's off. I'm not reachable for the rest of the night."

Chris simply pulled him into an embrace, tucking Tom's head under his chin and held him wordlessly. It was fine with Tom, who inhaled Chris' scent, enjoying the other man's warmth, how solid his body felt against his own. 

"Thank you," Chris whispered, his lips hot against Tom's temple.

Curiously, the urge to make love here and now was gone, and made way for a much more romantic, appreciative mood. Tom was glad just to be where Chris was, and ended up on his back, with his head in Chris' lap, his body stretched out along the bench. They just smiled at each other, Chris stroking Tom's stomach languidly while Tom fiddled with his hair.

"Look at us," Tom said, finally pulling him down for a kiss after all. "Suddenly all boring."

The kiss was also soft and appreciative, and Chris' hand slipped under Tom's shirt, making Tom cry out into Chris' mouth.

"Okay not so boring after all." He hissed when Chris' hand found its way under his belt, into his trousers, brushing against he head of his cock. "Chrissss..."

"I love you," Chris murmured, his voice deep with arousal. "I really want to touch you."

"Hmmmm... " Tom hummed. "How is the back of a cab any better than an abandoned cinema lobby, huh?" But he did not object when Chris made short work of his belt, top button and zipper and wrapped his hand around his length. "Oh, god..." he hissed. "Chrisss..."

"I can't wait any longer," Chris said. "I need you now."

"We have twenty minutes," Tom could hardly speak. Chris' hand on his cock felt fantastic. "If you keep this up, I'll be done in two."

"Do me with your mouth," Chris requested rather urgently. "I need you to swallow me."

"Fuck, Chris..."

"Please."

The hardness in Chris' jeans had already been a tease against Tom's face. He didn't lose any time.

"Hike my shirt up," he requested. "Don't want to have come all over... good lord!" Chris had started pumping him in earnest, and he bucked up against his fist. "Chris... god... don't stop."

"I need to see you come," Chris whispered hotly. "Please. Please come for me."

Tom had finally fiddled Chris' zipper open and hitched his pants down. His mouth watered at the sight of Chris hard, thick cock, listing slightly to the left, and he simply licked him like a lollipop, then sucked the head into his mouth, working his tongue against the sensitive spot where his foreskin was attached. Chris stiffened, then moaned softly, his right hand running through Tom's hair.

"Like that," he instructed gently. "Just like that."

Tom closed his eyes, his attention solely on pleasing Chris, and he realized that for the first time, Chris was calling the shots. At any moment so far, he'd always given Tom leeway to find his way into this relationship, but now, his instructions were gentle but very clear. _Let me come into your mouth. Swallow me. Let me see you come._ Just thinking about it excited Tom even more. In all truth, he'd been a terrible tease for the whole night, this new passion strange and exciting and still so frightening, and now... now he just wanted to please Chris, show him... show him that he trusted him, implicitly. Both his hands free, he ran one of them along the inseam of Chris' jeans, causing the younger man to throw his head back and bite his lip, and leaned on the elbow of the other, so he could take more of Chris' cock into his mouth from the top. They worked each other silently, still aware that they were in a shut-off compartment of the car, but not completely alone, the cab filled with their hot breathing and the occasional gasp, but other than that, it was quiet, a silence that pressed on Tom's ears and urged him on.

He came first, his cock springing in Chris' expert hands, who milked him dry to the very last drop, urging him on to give him more, just a little bit more, just one more squirt. Watching him come drove Chris over the edge, pushing his hips up so his cock hit the roof of Tom's mouth, and that was it. He cried out, holding Tom's head in place until he started to go soft and Tom had licked up and swallowed every last bit of his semen.

His smile, when he finally lifted up Tom's face by his chin, so they could look at each other, was tremulous. "You. Are. Magnificent."

"Clean me up," Tom urged. "Please. Hurry."

Chris actually found a tissue in one of the pockets of the jacket he was still wearing. As soon as he was finished, Tom sat up and crawled into Chris' lap, wrapping himself around his lover. "Hold me, please?"

Chris did just that, laughing softly. His warm hands ran up and down the smooth columns of Tom's back, and he hummed in the back of his throat. "You are so precious," he murmured into Tom's ear. "If I didn't already love you so much, I would start right now."

Tom was too sated to protest. Busy for half his life with proving that he was, in fact, a real man, he suddenly found a peace in Chris' arms that he had not even been looking for. He was suddenly appreciated for _who he was_ , not what he thought he needed to be. He couldn't find the words for how he was feeling, it was too big, too life changing if he took it seriously. 

But right now, right here, for the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged completely, no holds barred. To this man, this gentle, romantic, sensitive, manly, ridiculously handsome man who handled him so well and cared for him so much.

He would never let him go again.


	13. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris are finally alone with each other. What will they do with their evening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This chapter is definitely not safe for work. Not safe for school, either.
> 
> 2\. This chapter contains men who have emotions and are man enough to express them. If that's not your cup of tea, I promise I'm not at all offended if you move along.
> 
> 3\. This is the first part of a chapter that went on and on. I had to cut somewhere or you would have had to wait even longer for an update.
> 
> And last not least:  
> Please don't copy my story, or parts of my story, change a few words and the protagonists and post it as your own. It's emotionally devastating and incredibly cruel, not to mention unlawful. You have no idea how much work and courage it takes me to do this, and how many words land in the bin because they're not good enough to be posted. 
> 
> Unless you're willing to do that work, yourself, you're not a writer, and trying to reap the benefits of someone else's hard work is bad class and just pitiful.

They actually did make it inside the door, but then Tom did what he had promised to do and started unbuttoning Chris' overcoat, his intentions clear. Chris hardly had time to let his overnight bag fall where it may before Tom's hands slid between his coat and shirt and he started kissing him.

 Chris smiled, pulling Tom closer, reveling in the way the other man was pressing him against the barely closed door, passionately, and a little too rough. He moaned when Tom suckled along his neck, no doubt leaving marks that Chris could not care less about right this minute. What counted was that he had Tom to himself, no distractions, no other people, just Tom and himself, in the darkened hallway, and the sounds they made as hands slid against fabric, drawing the other closer, their kisses, heavy breathing, and moans reverberating deep in their chests.

 They didn't talk as Chris worked frantically to open Tom's coat, and then pushed it off his shoulders, letting his cardigan follow right after, hands hungrily sliding over the thin fabric of his shirt. He pulled it out of Tom's trousers, slipping his hands under it, finally in contact with Tom's warm, smooth skin. A moan issued from Chris' throat, and he kissed Tom deeply, sliding his tongue against Tom's, deeper, deeper, as if he wanted to crawl into him. His own coat had already joined Tom's on the floor, and now the other man was very busy opening the buttons on his dress shirt, and dipped his head, kissing every inch of skin that was revealed. Chris leaned back against the door, head thrown back, as Tom worked his way down, holding Tom's head close to him, fingers dug deeply into the other man's hair.

 "God, yes, Tom, don't stop." He was rock hard again already, the time between their bout in the cab and their arrival here obviously long enough to get him ready for another round. He was so hungry for Tom's touch, for the sounds he made as he slid his tongue into his navel and suckled it. His nimble fingers had his button and zipper open in no time, and his tongue licked the head of his cock, causing Chris to bang his head backwards against the door a little too hard. "Ouch," he complained, then had to grin about Tom's amused blue eyes peeking up at him from between his open jean flaps.

 The older man slowly got to his feet, brushing his whole body against Chris on his way up, and pressed his mouth against Chris' ear. "I think you've gone a little tender," he said in a low, seductive voice, then clicked his tongue in discontent. "Did I take you too hard?" A brow raised in gentle mockery, and stayed there in pleased surprise when Chris slid his hand between their bodies and, a little roughly and without any fanfare, tugged Tom's belt open, his button, and zipper, and then simply pushed down his boxer briefs and pulled him closer by his naked ass. Tom growled low in his throat, pleased when their cocks made contact. "More," he breathed.

 Chris kissed him again, biting his lower lip, pulling him as close as he could by grabbing his surprisingly muscular ass, while grinding his own cock against Tom's. It felt entirely too good, and he could already feel the tension building in his lower belly. Never before had he been so happy about the two of them being roughly the same height, their hips working against each other, tongues battling for supremacy. And then Tom's hand slipped between them, grabbing both their cocks, and worked them together.

 "God, I fucking love you," Chris groaned. "Please don't stop, that feels fantastic."

 Tom gave him a pleased grin. "It better," he breathed. "I wouldn't do that to just anyone." His hand picked up speed, pumping them in a manner that Chris could only call elegant and extremely fucking hot at the same time.

 "I should hope not." Chris' nostrils flared and he bit his lower lip. "Tom... oh, gooood...."

 "Is it any good...?" Tom asked, his mouth right by Chris' ear.

 "You know it is, fuck...." Chris bit his lower lip.

 "Hm, you feel so good in my hand," Tom groaned. "You feel _so_ good in my mouth."

 "God.. Tom..."

 "I love sucking your off," Tom kept taunting him. "Hm... the moment you come, so good."

 "Fuck!" Chris jerked his hips, pulling Tom closer and kissing him. Tom repositioned his hand, his thumb brushing over their slits, collecting beads of precome and rubbing them over their cocks in a circular motion. "Tom... god... so good... please... faster."

 "Are you ready to come, Chris?" Tom asked, his voice so low Chris felt it reverberate in his own chest. "Hm? Are you hot enough to come?"

 "Fuck, you know I am. You're driving me fucking crazy."

 "Hmmm... I can't wait to see you... Chris... I want to see you come..."

 "God, yes..." His eyes were wide open. "Don't stop, Tom, oh god, don't stop, don't stop, don't stoooooppp..."

 "Come for me... Chris... let me see you come, love. _Come for me._ "

 And that was it. Tom's hot breath against his ear, his baritone reverberating against his eardrums and through his entire chest, and the way Tom's thumb brushed over the head of his cock had him cry out and come. He wanted to bury his face against Tom's shoulder as he worked through his orgasm, but Tom nudged him backwards.

 "Let me see you, love... Chris, let me see you."

 It was so fucking erotic, and so full of love at the same time. Chris let his head fall against the door behind him, trying to keep his eyes open, on Tom, shuddering and writhing through his orgasm, ready prey to Tom's impeccably talented hand, until he could take no more.

 "Oh... oh... Tom, no more... enough." Chris' knees threatened to buckle, Tom's thumb on his sensitive cock a little too much. He swallowed. "Are you... are you..." he could hardly speak. His heartbeat was still racing.

 Tom bit his lower lip and shook his head.

 "Don't stop, love, please. Let me watch you." Chris kissed him, taking care to tuck his already softening, oversensitive cock away from Tom's still rapidly working hand. "I love you, Tom... god, you're fucking delicious." One hand slid under Tom's shirt and roughly flicked his nipple, causing Tom to cry out. "Yes, that's it, let me see you, fuck, you're so hot when you make that face, god, Tom..." He let his hands slide around to Tom's ass once more, fingering his crack with one hand, the other sliding down and putting pressure on his perineum, taking full advantage of the fact that Tom did not know how to stand with his fucking legs closed.

 "Oh fuck, Chris... kiss me...." Tom panted.

 Chris did just that, and turned Tom around, shoving him against the door roughly, then batted Tom's hand away from his cock and took over. "Let me... I think I know how to work this thing."

 "Ah!" Tom threw back his head, and Chris took advantage of the fact that Tom's cock was slick with his, Chris, come, gripping it tightly and working it hard. Tom's hips started bucking wildly, working his cock through Chris' fist, and when Chris dipped his head and bit and licked along Tom's neck, he could feel Tom's balls tighten, and his cock jump. He slowed down to a long, deep stroke, coaxing Tom's orgasm along. "There we go, you can let go, I've got you... Tom... let it happen... come... come for me, Tom... _come... for... me_..."

 "Oh my fucking god... Chris... fuck you... oh... gooooood...." Tom's fingers digging into his back hurt, but they were the right kind of pain, the one he relished and treasured and heightened his senses to the expression on Tom's face as he came, semen gushing hotly over Chris' hand, and he kept milking him with long, deep strokes. "One more, my love, one more... one more... Tom... _please_."

 "God... Chris... Chris... I love you so much. Fuck, I love you so much." Tom was clearly babbling, but he was talking, which was obviously not always the case when he'd just come.

 "Hm... Tom..." Chris grinned, nuzzling into Tom's neck, kissing it softly. "I love you. Beautiful. You're so beautiful." He looked up, into Tom's eyes. "You are so incredibly beautiful."

 "Charmer." Tom hardly had the means to smile. He looked exhausted, sated, and in love.

 Chris cupped his cheek in his left hand and kissed him again. "Beautiful," he insisted. "And mine."

 "Uh-huh?" Tom asked languidly, but smiled, the kind of exhausted, sated, lazy smile that Chris felt he was getting addicted to very much. "Yours?"

 "Do you object?" Chris asked, his lips very soft on Tom's.

 "No." Then he winced. "You can... let go of that," he hissed and screwed his eyes shut. "You've worn me out."

 Chris chuckled, and did as Tom had asked. He then lifted his hand and languidly smeared all the come coating his hand on Tom's belly.

 "Chris!" Surprise was written into Tom's face. "What are you... you impossible man, where are you going?"

 Chris was getting on his knees, licking at Tom's belly, getting a first taste of Tom's come.

 "God, you're killing me," Tom said, but he chuckled and his hand found its way into Chris' hair. "That can't taste good."

 "I just wanted to know." He nibbled at Tom's skin. "Missed my chance again, have I?"

 "There will be many others," Tom promised, his expression so loving.

 Chris pressed his head against Tom's stomach, just wanting to be near him.

 "Chris..." Tom said, his fingers rubbing Chris' scalp softly.

 "Hm...?" He could've just stayed here, drowning in the afterglow and Tom.

 "It's a bit drafty..."

 "I don't want to move," Chris mewled, dropping little kisses around Tom's navel. "Let me love you some more."

 "Oh, honey." Tom smiled. "My darling Chris."

 Chris felt like purring.

 He purred, burying his face against Tom's belly.

 Tom chuckled. "You're killing me," he said softly. "Chris... love... do you plan on sticking yourself to my stomach? It must be so uncomfortable with all that... well...."

 It was getting a bit rank by now. "I thought we'd... I don't know, shower?" Chris shifted, his knees starting to hurt.

 "I do have a nice tub," Tom said wistfully.

 "How long does it take to fill up?" Chris asked, thinking practically. "It looked rather large."

 Tom bit his lower lip. "You have a point," he admitted. "Tomorrow night, then?"

 "Or any other night." Chris nibbled at a bit of skin, liking the still salty-bitter tang. "Your fondness for apple strudel doesn't show on how you taste," he complained.

 "That would be novel," Tom said dryly. "Come up, lover. Kiss me some more, I think I taste better up here."

 Chris complied, sliding his arms easily around Tom's shoulders. "Hm... have I told you I love you yet?" he hummed, kissing Tom softly.

 "I don't think so, no." Tom chuckled into his mouth.

 Chris smiled into the kiss, enjoying very much the lazy, comfortable way they acted around each other. "Tom, what _are_ we doing?"

 "What do you mean?" Tom's hands slid under his shirt and caressed him, making Chris wanting to purr once more. It made it a bit hard to concentrate. "How..." he started, then gulped when Tom hit a particularly good spot. "Good lord, you have magic hands," he expelled. "Tom... how... how come you make me so hot and confused and horny and... and wanting to do you... all the time. _All_ the time!"

 Tom gave him a quirky smile and leaned in, so he could speak into his ear. "Chris Hemsworth... are you falling in love with me?" he asked, a tremble going through his thin frame.

 "That's a given," Chris said, rubbing his beard against Tom's cheek. "Hmmm...."

 "That's a given?" Tom wanted to know. He shivered. "Brr... it's really drafty here in front of the door, Chris..."

 "Want me to carry you to the bathroom?" Chris asked with a wink.

 Tom giggled. "No, love, that's okay." He kissed him and then took his hand. "Grab your bag," he said gently.

 "But I want to get naked with you, not dressed."

 Tom rolled his eyes and laughed, then grabbed the bag, himself. "Fine then. Let's get naked."

 

* * *

 

Once they were in the bathroom, had shut the door behind them, and turned on the heat, Chris made very sure that getting Tom naked meant touching Tom everywhere on his way out of his clothes. His hands under Tom's shirt, he pressed himself against his front while slowly inching up the shirt over his back. His breathing labored, he tried to commit every dip, every mole, every shift of muscle to memory.

 "Sweetheart," Tom murmured, holding him close. "Honey, what is wrong? I'm still going to be there tomorrow."

 "Who knows," Chris said earnestly. "You're so gorgeous, Tom."

 "I didn't know you had a penchant for beanpoles," Tom teased, nevertheless preening under all that attention.

 Chris gave him a look. "Honestly, Tom, you're perfect." He ended up hooking his thumbs under the edges of Tom's shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion. He flicked the shirt away and wrapped Tom into his arms, holding him close, and was almost surprised when Tom tugged at his own shirt, and pushed it over his shoulders, then made him release the arms. "Let me show you something," he whispered. "Tom."

 "What is it?"

 Chris ducked his head and kissed him, and let his hands slide up Tom's back. Tom's body immediately rose against his, his hands finding Chris' ass, caressing it through the heavy denim of his jeans. "This," Chris said. "The way you move against me."

 Tom groaned softly. "What?"

 Chris deepened the kiss, one hand sliding down to Tom's ass for leverage. Tom melted into him, his arms around Chris' neck, the length of his torso straining against Chris. "This," Chris groaned into his neck. "Tom, this." He felt his own breathing deepen with arousal, even though his cock was still giving him the finger from the last time. "This is making me feel so good."

 Tom ducked his head and blushed a little. "You know what makes me feel good?" he asked, his voice fairly small.

 "Tell me." He'd be sure to do more of it.

 "Just... when you hold me," Tom admitted, in a very quiet voice. "This is so weird and so wrong, I guess, and I shouldn't... it just..."

 "Hold you like how?" Chris asked gently.

 "Just like this." Tom smiled, a very small, insecure smile. "Your arms wrapped around me once like a cocoon."

 Chris made sure he had the placement of his arms right, one down, ending with his hand on Tom's ass, and the other wrapped around his torso, cradling the back of Tom's head. Tom immediately sighed, relaxing, melting even further into Chris.

 "This is so good," Tom said, his eyes shining. "Like I can just let go for once."

 "You just tell me," Chris asked. "Okay? You just tell me when you need this."

 "Okay." Tom ducked his head. "Like, the whole night?" He still seemed insecure about this.

 "Any time you need it," Chris assured him. He dropped his head, nibbling on Tom's neck gently. "I love you, Tom."

 "I love you, Chris." They smiled at each other. "How did we get here again?"

 "That's what I've been asking myself." Chris tightened his hold, loving the feel of Tom's skin rubbing against his own, how Tom's long fingers caressed his back and neck, so gentle, yet so insistent, with just the right pressure, just the right timing, just... complete perfection. "I'm not an idiot, I can see that I'm head over heels with you."

 "You are?" Tom's face lit up with one of those adorable smiles of his.

 "Trust me, it's obvious a mile wide," Chris said ironically.

 "How would I know?" Tom asked, playing dumb. "Or even better, how do you know?"

 Chris gave him an amused look. "First of all, I want to touch you. All the time."

 "Me too," Tom said wistfully. "Can't get enough of it. Of touching you." Again, he ducked his head and smiled shyly. "Or you touching me."

 "That's pretty good, isn't it?" The amount of tenderness he began to feel for this man was nothing he had ever experienced.

 "Yeah." Tom gave him a quirky smile. "How else do you know?"

 "I want to kiss you all the time," Chris continued, following up with a soft nibble on Tom's lips. "You, too?"

 "Uh-huh." Tom nodded. "It's good because you're a really good kisser."

 Chris chuckled. "Thank you. And you taste really, really good."

 "It's all that pudding," Tom said, smiling.

 "Or you're just naturally sweet." They both giggled. "What a sappy thing to say..."

 "I love it." Tom's brow contracted and he ran soft fingers along Chris' hairline. "This is so strange because... um... kind of.. no one's ever said that to me."

 "I can't believe that."

 "No, really, I... it keeps popping up, Chris." Now he looked a little too serious for Chris' tastes. Realizing that this may turn into a talk, he looked around and found that Tom had a bathroom chair by the towel rack.

 "Let's sit down," he said.

 As he did, Tom joined him, straddling his legs, and just dipping his head and kissing Chris, very lovingly, very reverently. Chris held him lightly, his hands sprawled over Tom's sides, acutely aware of every shifting muscle under his fingertips. Tom's kisses deepened, his long, sensuous fingers holding Chris' face between them, and Chris found himself aroused once more.

 "Sweetheart," he murmured. "Tell me what you just wanted to say."

 "I was just trying to distract you from that," Tom admitted with a smile. "Plus, it's really nice to kiss you."

 "Can I tell you something?" Chris asked, breaking the kiss and holding Tom's chin between his thumb and forefinger to look deep into his eyes.

 Tom bit his lower lip. "What is it?"

 "Tom, you really scared me tonight out on that terrace."

 Tom's face fell. "I'm sorry."

 "I will tell you why," Chris continued. Seeing Tom hurt or in pain was twisting his heart in ways he could not endure, so he was trying to make this quick. "When we talked out there, several times, I thought I was just on the edge of losing you and it was killing me."

 "Oh, Chris..."

 Chris put his finger on Tom's lips. "Listen, please. I have no idea how... how it happens that from one moment to the next, I'm feeling so strongly about you. I just know that I do. But I'm starting to realize that you talk a lot but not always about the things that... the things that really matter to you." He touched Tom's chest. "In here."

 Tom's nostrils flared. Chris could see that it was very uncomfortable for Tom to be called out like that.

 "Tom, I... I don't know if I would survive another outburst like that," he said honestly. "It hurts incredibly. I know you hurt, as well, but really, for a moment there... when you hurt like that, I'm hurting with you. I can't stop it. I'm right there with you. Okay?"

 Tom nodded, very intent on him now.

 "What I'm asking is, please, for my sake, don't let it build up to that again. Okay? Please? Tell me when something bothers you. Tell me when you worry. I want to know." He felt his eyes fill with tears. "I want to know you, Tom. Please share yourself with me." He ran his fingers through Tom's hair. "Please."

 A shiver went through Tom's frame and he swallowed hard. "This is about the most beautiful declaration of love I've ever heard," he said. "I think I'm going to cry. I'm such a sap."

 "If anything, you're _my_ sap," Chris said gently. "And I happen to love you very much."

 "I don't know how I deserve you," Tom whispered rawly. "I feel like such an idiot, Chris. How come I never saw this? How come I didn't let myself..." he stopped there, clearly chewing at the next word that wanted to slip out.

 "Didn't let yourself...?" Chris coaxed.

 "Love you earlier," it burst out of Tom.

 "How much earlier?" Chris asked, his tone still gentle, thumb caressing Tom's cheek.

 "Right when I met you." Tom couldn't meet his eyes. "Right when I met you," he whispered. "You were so gorgeous, and I..." he chuckled to himself, "I so desperately wanted to get my hands on you."

 "As I remember you did," Chris said, smiling. "All those Yoga lessons?"

 "Augh." Tom buried his face against Chris' shoulder.

 "It's okay." He placed a soft kiss on Tom's exposed neck. "I thought you were pretty cool, too."

 "Hm?"

 "I thought you were really... I loved your enthusiasm, and loved to make you laugh, and hang out with you, and all those fight scenes... got me close and personal with you, I liked those best." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "I do think I was trying to let you know that."

 Now Tom looked up again curiously. "What do you mean?"

 "I think I was fairly interested," Chris realized, using Tom's position to let a hand run down his front appreciatively. "I would've... if you'd let me know... if you'd given me a sign that you would've been interested, too, I think, I... I would definitely have made a pass at you."

 "What?"

 "I tried to kiss you," Chris enunciated. "Don't you remember?"

 "What?" Tom suddenly sat up straight, and Chris felt that his heart beat was picking up. Had he said something wrong? "When... when was this?" Tom seemed genuinely confused.

 " _Never doubt that I love_ ," Chris quoted, hoping Tom would catch on, because right now, he felt as awkward as he had then, trying to couch his attempt to get closer to his costar in roughhousing and mocking each other to within an inch of their lives, playfully trying to gauge if Tom would be interested, seeing where it would lead. " _Now give us a kiss._ "

 Tom sat stock still. "You're kidding me."

 "Rehearsal? I was all over you," Chris said, his eyebrows raised. "Trying not to make a fool of myself, but you were just laughing me off and thought I was kidding you."

 "I... I... Oh, god." There was genuine shock in Tom's face, and a shiver went through his whole body. "Oh, Chris, that... I thought you were joking, and... I didn't want to make a fool of myself... I got home that night and wanked off 'til kingdom come and then felt like the worst person alive, ever. You were so fucking hot, and I was so embarrassed and scared and... how could I... think these things about a man, about someone who was friends with me, how could I betray their trust by having those... dirty, forbidden, horrible thoughts. I was... so. Incredibly. Scared. And disgusted with myself."

 "It's okay," Chris soothed, though his heart dropped at realizing that they could have had each other a long time ago, and had missed out on it so profoundly.

 "No, it's not okay. It's not."

 "I dropped it after, because I could see I'd made you uncomfortable," Chris admitted. "I wanted to keep you as a friend."

 Tom just moaned.

 "But," Chris spoke as he was realizing things, "I think I really missed you when we went our separate ways after and we didn't see each other. I was just not really complete any more, it felt weird. I thought it was because I hardly went home to Australia and hardly saw my family and the set of Snow White..." he snorted. "Well. Easy to get homesick on."

 "I missed you, too," Tom murmured. "I worked like a maniac though. And then you found Elsa, and I thought, oh, that's good, then."

 "I think..." Chris thought out loud, "I married the first person who loved me back. I was sick of feeling like half of myself." He groaned. "Oh, god."

 They were both shell-shocked, rigid with their discoveries.

 "If we were," Tom said slowly, "In love for three years without... acting on it, how unsurprising is it that it's now felling us like an ax a tree."

 "In one fell swoop." Chris blinked.

 "Why now, though?" Tom asked desperately. "Why now, Chris?"

 Chris shrugged. "Because I'm an idiot, I guess."

 "You're not an idiot. Don't even kid about that," Tom said. "I, on the other hand, want to simply bite myself. Can you imagine how much heartache could've been prevented if I hadn't been such an..."

 "You're not an idiot, either. Hey. I'm not letting anyone call my lover that, not even you. Stop." Chris looked intently at him. "I didn't figure it out, either, all right? I didn't figure out it was you I was missing and I just tuckered on. Or I might have given it another try."

 "I'm so... angry at myself right now." Tom wiped a tear away. "So fucking angry to believe all that crap and just not... I missed so much. I'm done with this."

 "With me?"

 "No, not with you." Tom cuffed him gently. "I'm done with... letting fear dictate what I feel. It's stupid, and it's unnecessary."

 "Hey, hey, it's okay when you take it slow," Chris said. "I need to get used to this, too, okay?"

 "Okay." Tom sniffed. "Dammit. This has me really upset."

 Chris felt a little helpless, the earlier romantic mood gone over their discoveries. "How ironic, though," he mused out loud, rubbing Tom's thighs, "that me needing help to rehearse has gotten us here. Same scenario."

 "Full circle." Tom slung his arms around Chris' neck and looked at him intently. "I missed you so much," he said. "I was so excited that you'd spend the weekend."

 "I know." He kissed Tom's nose. "I missed you, too. Never seemed enough time together on the set." He smiled. "I could've easily gone back to the hotel last night but I just wanted to hang out with you... be where you are." He blinked. "It's always been easy with you."

 "Yeah. With you, too." Tom gave him a small smile.

 His eyes closed for a moment, giving Chris ample opportunity to admire the fan of his long lashes against his skin. "Do you still want to know what I was thinking about earlier?" he asked. "Does it still matter?"

 "Of course it does." Chris leaned against the chair's back and pulled Tom closer by his pelvis. "I told you it matters to me what you think."

 "Um..." Tom bit his lower lip. "I'm not sure I've thought this through to the end yet..."

 "Go for it."


	14. Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the continuation of Chapter 13 - Tom and Chris are finally alone and find ways to spend their evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a chapter that is not safe for work OR for school.
> 
> Let me just say a big thank you for all the wonderful feedback, and the kudos, and the hits. I really appreciate each and every one. Honestly, every comment makes my day, so don't feel shy, drop me a line here, or use my ask box on tumblr if you want your comment to stay private. 
> 
> I'd love to get to know you!

Tom's eyes closed for a moment, giving Chris ample opportunity to admire the fan of his long lashes against his skin. "Do you still want to know what I was thinking about earlier?" he asked. "Does it still matter?"

"Of course it does." Chris leaned against the chair's back and pulled Tom closer by his pelvis. "I told you it matters to me what you think."

"Um..." Tom bit his lower lip. "I'm not sure I've thought this through to the end yet..."

"Go for it."

Tom dropped his head, not daring to look at him. "It just... feels so good to let you take care of me and I... I don't know whether it's right or not."

Chris soothingly rubbed his thumbs along the inseam of Tom's trousers affectionately. "It feels right to me," he said, not really sure where Tom was taking this.

"Yes, well..." Tom ran a nervous hand through his hair, "That's just it, I... I usually took care of... you know, my girlfriends, not the other way 'round." He did look thoroughly confused. "I really... have no idea... what..." He let out a frustrated breath. "This is really hard to put into words!"

Following his instincts, Chris simply pulled him into an embrace, and was relieved when Tom just melted into it, his head resting on Chris' shoulder. He gently caressed Tom's back, feeling Tom's hands on his sides, their chests touching when they inhaled.

"This feels so good," Tom sighed.

"It does," Chris murmured.

"I've been..." Tom said, snuggling closer, "I've been trying to live up to this ideal... this ideal of what a man is and should be, and here I am... and _this_ feels so right and good and wonderful."

Chris had always watched Tom struggle with this, working so hard on it, and had never really understood why he did, just accepted it as part of Tom's personality. "Why is feeling so right and good and wonderful wrong?" he asked.

 "Because I don't feel it when I should." Tom sighed.

 "Tom, not to be touchy here, but really, let me be clear, when I hold you and make love to you, you damn well should feel right and good and wonderful," Chris said. "Or I'm doing something completely wrong."

 Tom pushed himself up so he could see him. "Yes, see, that's just it. When I do what is expected of me, and strive to be better at it, I feel okay, and it feels good to work hard and accomplish something. But when I'm with you... when I'm with you, I feel..." A smile broke out on his face. "I feel like me. Like I can do nothing wrong. It is so effortless. How can that be right?"

 "Oh boy." Chris had to laugh. "If you break up with me because I'm not enough work, I'm going to be really upset with you."

 "What?"

 "You think too much, Tom." He drew him down for a gentle kiss to soften his words. "I love you, but you really think too much sometimes. You don't have to earn being with me, okay? You already have me. I've known you for three years. I've missed you for three years and didn't know it. Just having you here, and you love me back..." His breath hitched and his brow contracted, and when he spoke next, it was in a whisper, "Is fantastic and unexpected and mind-blowing." He took Tom's hand and put it on his chest. "Feel this?" he asked. "This is what my heart's been doing since last night. Every time I look at you it wants to spring out of my chest."

 "Why?" Tom looked from his hand to Chris' eyes and back.

 "Because I love you so much, Tom. Because this is how it feels when it's right. Because you make me incredibly happy."

 In the expression on Tom's face, he could see exactly the difference of how they approached this. He, Chris, was just embracing the experience whole, with all his senses, all his soul, all his heart. And here was Tom, who was trying to make sense of something that did not fit into what his interpretation of his own self-worth had been for so long, and as much as he craved it, it also scared him to pieces. If it was that easy, what had he done all that work for? And how could something that he had been taught to be so wrong, feel so incredibly right?

 "Sweetheart," Chris said, drawing him down into a kiss. "My darling Tom. Can you do something for me?"

 "Anything." He was struggling so hard. Chris realized that if Tom didn't love him so much, he would have long run for the hills. Screaming. Never to come back again.

 "I want you to work on something for me," Chris whispered. "It's really important."

 "What is it?"

 A drop fell on Chris' face, and he realized Tom was crying. "Love, I want you to let go," he said. "Each time these thoughts come up, whether it's right what you're doing, or what is going on, when you're with me, let them go."

 "I don't know if I can," Tom said, his brow contracting with worry.

 "That's why it's hard, and you need to work on it," Chris insisted gently, hoping that if he dressed it in words Tom could relate to, he might actually reach him. "When you're with me, I want you to be present and in the moment and not judge how you feel. Just feel." He put his hand over Tom's heart. "And if you don't feel it, don't do it."

 "Oh, Chris."

 "Let me take care of you, Tom, please." Chris wiped away a tear with his thumb.

 "Okay." Tom drew a sobbing breath. "Yes, please."

 "Oh, good." He felt tears sting his own eyes, and the realization that they were far from this just running smoothly and on its own, hit him hard. It was easy to think they were going to be together forever now, just from the strength of his own feelings. There was no doubt for him that he wanted to be with Tom for a very long time. But he could see that if Tom's soul-crushing doubts would continue, or, worse, stay with them through the course of their relationship, he did not know if he could pay that price indefinitely. "I love you so much."

 "I'm so sorry." Tom kissed him. "I'm so sorry I'm making things so difficult."

 "Things are difficult," Chris said. "But you and me, that's not difficult at all, okay?"

 "Okay." Tom swallowed hard. "You're right. You're right, Chris." He kissed him again. "When I look into your eyes, it's not difficult at all."

 "Tom..." But his lover scooted off his lap and held out his hand. Chris took it, and was heaved onto his feet. "What are we doing?" he asked.

 "Let me love you," Tom said, sliding his body against Chris', his arms around his shoulders. "I don't tell you enough how much I love you."

 "Tom..." But he was ready to get lost in the other man, leave their talk behind, let himself be spun into a cocoon of affection, passion, and love. Tom's hands were stroking him reverently, and he felt goosebumps break out on his skin, and his nipples tighten.

 Tom noticed, and ran his thumb over one of his nipples, hardening it even further, then dipped his head and closed his lips around it, suckling lightly. Chris felt immediately lightheaded; Tom had a very talented tongue. He switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with attention until Chris felt himself begin to harden, and his breath coming so much faster.

 Tom gave him a look that made Chris grin, and waggled his brows at him, then let his nipple be and slid up his body again, creating delicious friction. "Can I tell you a secret?" Tom asked, the expression in his eyes so loving.

 "Of course."

 He smiled bashfully. "Sometimes I think god has hewed you out of marble," he said, running his hands appreciatively down his arms. "Just for me."

 "Oh."

 "So I could love you."

"What on earth are you going to do if I need to slim down for my next movie?" Chris teased gently.

"You're always perfect for me," Tom said, his fingertips running down Chris' spine. "I haven't had a day in which I did not love you."

Fuck, when this man opened his mouth and started to talk, it was simply devastating. "Is that," Chris asked gently, pulling Tom very close. "Is that what is going on in your head when you just stare at me sometimes?"

Tom shivered in his arms. "Yes." He nimbly opened Chris' jeans once more, and pushed them, and his boxers, down over his ass. "I still want to go shower with you."

"Hm..." Chris reciprocated quickly, and they both stepped out of their garments, then got rid of their socks, leaving everything where they dropped it.

Tom took him by the hand and pulled him towards the shower, then turned it on and waited for the right temperature. "Come in, lover," he coaxed. As soon as they were both in, and Chris had closed the door behind him, they slid into an embrace, kissing deeply.

It wasn't about passion this time, not about sex. It was about two souls meeting, about discovering and worshiping each other's bodies. Under the gentle spray of Tom's rain shower head, Chris made love to every dip, every curve of Tom's body, drinking in each of Tom's reactions. He felt Tom's lips trace his clavicle, his hands sculpting each muscle, he saw the reverence in his eyes, felt bathed in bone-deep appreciation. They started washing each other, hands slipping over slick skin, bodies sliding against each other, kisses deep and wet, their hands grappling for purchase when passion took over after all.

"Tom..." Chris moaned. "Let me make love to you."

"How do you want me?" Tom asked, his breath short.

"Turn around," he said, his voice hoarse with passion. "Is that okay?"

"I trust you." Tom's kissed him. "Not to hurt me."

Chris moaned into the kiss, passionate, impatient. "Turn around with your hands against the wall. Hand me that conditioner, will you?"

 Tom did as he was asked, and Chris nearly came from the sight alone; Tom's water-slick, muscular back, his legs apart, finely sculpted arms bracing him against the steamy tile. Chris squirted a good dollop of conditioner into his left hand, and put the bottle away, then smoothed himself against Tom's back. "You are so gorgeous," he said into Tom's ear, his other hand caressing Tom's stomach, tracing each abdominal muscle, one after the other. "So incredibly sexy."

 Tom trembled. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

 "Tell me if you don't like it, and I will stop. Right then. Okay?" Tom turned his head, hair slick with water, droplets clinging to his lashes. Chris couldn't help himself, and kissed him him. He nudged Tom to tilt his pelvis back, and brought his hand to the top of his crack. "I won't go inside, okay?"

 "Okay." Another tremble went through Tom's entire body.

 "But I still need to fuck you," Chris said, passion slamming through his body as he said those words.

 " _Yes_." Tom pressed into his touch, needing him to continue. Chris found himself biting Tom's shoulder, licking it, biting again, his left hand sliding into Tom's crack, lathering him up, his fingertip slipping over Tom's hole, caressing him. " _Please_ , Chris." Tom pressed his ass against his hand. "Please, now."

 Chris quickly lathered what was left of the conditioner over his hard, throbbing cock, then lined up with Tom's back and spread his cheeks, slipping his cock into Tom's crack. Both hands slid forward, adjusting Tom's stance so he could easily slide over him, and when that was accomplished, he started pumping his hips, nearly coming then and there when Tom pressed back against him.

 "More, Chris. Love me more."

 It felt so good to have his cock surrounded by Tom's body, slick, clinging, Tom pressing back against him, asking for more. Chris groaned, a groan that came from the depth of his soul, and he found himself biting Tom's shoulder again, needing a release for his feelings. Tom drew his hands forward, around his cock, still slick with soap, and Chris formed a loose loop with his hand, letting Tom do the work.

 Their movements grew more erratic, each man swept up by passion, and Chris found that he would hit Tom's hole once, twice, and then Tom turned around to him, kissing him deeply, saying "Too much."

 "I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, god, I love you so much."

 "I want to see you while we make love," Tom murmured. "And it's your turn to be fucked, my love. Hand me that conditioner again."

 Chris blinked, hand groping blindly to his right. He handed Tom the bottle, and found himself turned around, so his back was against the tile, its cold stinging his back.

 "Close your legs," Tom growled, and Chris followed blindly. When Tom worked a slicked hand around his balls and between his legs, he realized what would happen. He blushed, blood pounding in his ears, and he felt so aroused he nearly came then and there. He melted into Tom's embrace, away from the tile; he wanted to be held up by nothing but Tom's arms and his cock, pounding into him.

 "Yes," he groaned. "Yes, yes, yes."

 Tom gave him an amused look, lifting Chris' balls and inserting his cock under them, slowly pushing into the cavity formed by Chris' legs and perineum. He moaned with relief. "Fuck that feels good."

 Chris just groaned, letting his head fall forward against Tom's shoulder. As Tom pushed into him, the gap between their bodies closed until Chris found his cock pressed against Tom's muscled abdomen, flexing and working against him with each push of Tom's pelvis.

 "So good," Chris moaned. "Oh god, that feels so good." He didn't know if this would work the other way around, as Tom's cock had a good inch and a half on his own. But like this, it was amazing, Tom's reach an incredible advantage. Feeling Tom's cock slide between his legs was an indescribable turn-on, and he found himself clenching the muscles on the inside of his thighs, earning a passionate groan from Tom. Tom adjusted his angle, pushing upwards more, and hit Chris' perineum, making him gasp.

 "So good, Tom, oh my god, that feels so good." Chris was absolutely fine with being the receiver, having Tom's muscular, slim body move against him, into him, his hands squeezing his ass, his stomach working Chris' cock, Tom's cock between his legs, hitting all the good spots. "God, please don't stop, Tom."

 Tom picked up the pace, his cock sliding between Chris' legs, and he moaned. "You feel fantastic," he said. "God, Chris, what you do to me."

 It felt so damn good to hear that.

 "Harder, Tom," he gasped. "Please. Fuck me harder." He cried out when Tom started pounding into him in earnest, his hips snapping forward, taking him hard, Tom's face contorted with passion, his cock so hard, so deep, his movement like liquid against Chris, demanding he'd take him, take what he had to give, and Chris so, so ready to receive.

 He wasn't in a hurry to come, and neither was Tom. Having already come twice in the past two hours was probably not hurrying things along, either. It felt incredible to just be able to let go and feel Tom's strength, be overwhelmed by his passion, by how much Tom wanted him, claimed him as his own. How deep he took him. After all the doubts and the tears and the heartache, all Chris needed, right now, was being desired like that, having Tom show him without a doubt how much he wanted him, no holds barred, how, if he just concentrated only on what was going on between them, he would simply make Chris his.

 Chris realized, in that moment, that he very much wanted Tom to fuck him thoroughly one day, one very close day. It didn't matter to him that Tom would probably never develop a taste for it the other way around, but he knew he wanted to be filled with Tom, be made to make room for that magnificent, long, thick cock of his and take him in until he could take no more.

 Tom changed his rhythm again and made him look at him, his eyes full of love and gentleness. "You are so incredible," he said as he took him in long, deep strokes. "Chris..."

 "Kiss me already?" Chris asked, pulling his head closer. Tom grasped his ass cheeks, moving languidly into him, and kissed him, his tongue moving in sync with his cock.

 "Do you like this?" he asked, his voice deep with passion. "You like to be fucked like this?"

 Hearing Tom say these words, in that voice, nearly broke Chris. "Yes. Yes. Yes," he croaked.

 Tom shook his head indulgently. "How badly do you want it?" he asked.

 "Very badly." A laugh bubbled up in Chris' throat. "It feels so fucking good." He ducked his head. "Your cock between my legs feels so good."

 Tom licked his lips and changed the way his body worked against Chris, trapping his cock between them and moving his body against it. "You ready to come?" he asked. "Chris... hmmm?"

 "Not yet." However, he did feel that he was getting closer, the feeling of Tom's cock breaching him time and again, hitting his perineum, stimulating his sensitive balls as it slid in and out, was slowly but surely transporting him towards orgasm. "Not yet. Not yet, Tom."

 "You have no idea what you're doing to me. No idea. Chris. The way you take me." Tom buried his face against Chris' neck, one of his hands sliding up and flicking against his nipple, causing Chris to gasp. "The way you let me fuck you."

 "Oh god..." It was done, Chris felt that he was toppling over the edge to his sure-fire way to orgasm. "Tom..."

 "The way you take my cock... Chris... you're amazing."

 In... out... the head of Tom's cock pressing against that sensitive spot, Chris cried out. "Fuck me, please, Tom... god... make me come."

 "Yes." There was nothing but reverence in Tom's eyes, nothing but love as he moved into him, his hips undulating against him, making sure his cock was properly stimulated by every one of those incredibly flexible muscles. "Chris, I love you so much... so much..." He groaned and his eyes flew open. "Oh god." He blinked. "Shit." And then he came, his body snapping forward like a released bowstring, burying his cock deeply between Chris' legs and holding on for dear life as the orgasm worked its way through him. "Oh my god, Chris... oh... god.. I'm sorry...."

 Chris was so close, his cock being rubbed against Tom's wet, twitching abs, but then he felt it, felt Tom spill between his legs, Tom's cock jumping, contracting and then there it was, the feeling of Tom's hot semen coating the inside of his legs in rapid spurts, running down his skin - and then it was simply over, and Chris came so hard he lost all sense of self, all sense of time, coherency of speech as he came and came and came.

 He somehow realized that Tom was holding him when his knees buckled, and then for some reason they were both on the floor of the shower, warm water cascading over them as Tom held him, his long legs and arms wrapped around him, in a tight embrace.

 Both too incoherent to speak, they kissed, sloppily, tiredly, reverently.

 "Tom," Chris finally croaked. "Whatever you do, don't stop doing it."

 "Hm?" Tom was busy kissing him, his hand cradling Chris' jaw, busy trying to inhale him as deeply as possible.

 Chris reached up, brushing a wet lock out of Tom's face, which the water immediately washed down again. "I've never come so hard in my life," Chris said. "You're an amazing lover. I love you so much. I'm so glad we're together." He kissed him hard. "I'm so glad I'm yours."

 "Mine," Tom said, his eyes so dark. He slipped a hand along Chris' thigh, and then inside, making Chris cry out softly at the sensation as he rubbed at the traces of his come between Chris' legs. He looked at Chris, his eyes boring into him. "Mine," he repeated, his voice raspy.

 Chris' heartbeat doubled, he simply wanted to get lost in those eyes, in that man.

 "Let me clean you up," Tom murmured, his fingers working between Chris' legs, making him spread them farther. It was in unfathomably erotic thing to do; Chris twitched and moaned as Tom's elegant hands explored every nook and crevice, removing the slick evidence of his passion. He hung on to Tom's shoulder for dear life, bucking into Tom's hand, then twitching with sensation when Tom reached up and gently rubbed his poor, overstimulated cock clean. "Oh... Tom..." He twitched, rotating his hips. "God, I wish you could take me again."

 Tom chuckled, and kissed him again, kissed him very deeply, the hand on his cock gently insisting. "Are you spent, my darling?" he purred.

 "I want you to fuck me one day, really fuck me, take me as deep as you can," Chris exhaled. "Tom, please."

 Tom smiled into the kiss. "Okay," he said. "Okay, yes... I will." They looked at each other, and Chris felt like he could drown in those eyes, he _wanted_ to drown in those eyes, he wanted this man to be his whole world.

 "You're amazing," he croaked. "Tom... you're so amazing."

 Tom kissed his forehead and gathered him closely in his arms.

 It felt like the safest place on earth.


	15. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter weren't exactly planned. I'd had a crappy week(end) and needed to write some TLC. And yes, you're getting two chapters in one day.
> 
> Hope you like them anyway!

Tom set the water to boil and then filled a pot with two tea bags, put it on a tray and added a cup, saucer, and a pack of milk. From the living room, he could hear Chris moving around, opening drawers and setting up things on the table. The soundtrack from _Gladiator_ softly wafted in through the doorway, and Tom filled a mug with milk, added a generous amount of coco and put it in the microwave oven to heat.

Sighing, he took a seat on the stool by the island, relishing the moment to just let his thoughts wander while he waited for the water to boil.

"Hey," Chris stuck his head through the doorway. "Everything's ready over here."

"Still waiting," Tom said, pointing at the stove. "Your coco's heating up, too."

"Hmmm," Chris hummed, sauntering over. He, like Tom, was already in his pajama bottoms and a lose shirt, and catching sight of it, Tom had to smile.

"Hey, sexy," he said, reaching out for his lover. "Come here."

Chris grinned, not adverse to getting reeled in at all. "Are you talking to me?" he asked. "I'm not even shirtless."

Tom chuckled and shook his head at him as Chris settled between his knees, and Tom let his hands rest on his hips. "I know what's under there," he said, raising a brow. "It's lethal."

Chris laughed and dropped his head to kiss him. "You didn't even let me put on that..."

Tom shook his head. "Nonono, and I won't. You're killing me as you are."

"Worn out?" Chris teased, his voice a low purr.

Tom made the time-out sign. "Recharging," he said. "Night's not over."

Chris laughed. "Looking forward to that," he said. His blue eyes sparkled.

"Yeah." Tom pulled him closer and put his head on his shoulder, relishing the feeling of Chris' arms sliding around him comfortably, rubbing his back. "God, that feels good."

"Yeah." Chris kissed his head, and they just stayed like this, both tired, a little worn out and overwhelmed by what the night had brought so far.

Tom inhaled Chris' scent, imprinting it on his senses, his hands gently rubbing Chris' sides. It was astounding how safe he felt, and how much easier it became to just give in to this and let himself be loved.

The microwave sounded off, but neither man moved, basking in their closeness.

"I have no idea," Tom said after a long while. "How I managed to be so close to you for three years and not catch a single clue."

"Stop worrying about it."

"I kind of need to talk about it, it's how I work stuff out, Chris." Tom looked up.

Chris cupped his face in his broad hand, caressing Tom's cheekbone. "In that case, it's a good thing I like listening to you talk, then," he said, not missing a beat. "How about on the sofa?"

"Sure." Tom yawned.

Behind Chris, the kettle started whistling. "You stay right here, let me take care of that."

Tom was too tired to argue. He watched Chris pour the water into the pot and putting the kettle aside. He automatically looked at the clock on his wall, preferring his tea bags to steep no longer than five minutes, and then got distracted by how good Chris' ass looked in his checkered pajama bottoms.

They'd been here, in this room, last night, as comfortable with each other as they were tonight. He had fed Chris apple strudel. Chris had sought body contact by trying to figure out what was on his plate. He had smoothed himself against his best friend when they were looking for tasty pudding in the freezer. Their legs had touched easily under the table, with neither man flinching away. They hadn't even thought twice about sharing a sofa as they napped yesterday evening, their long bodies stretched out against each other.

He'd been in a very comfortable relationship with this man for years, he realized.

Chris opened the microwave oven and chuckled when he saw that Tom had used his only oversize mug for his coco. He looked over his shoulder, smiling, and Tom couldn't help but smile back.

"There are marshmallows in the pantry if you want any," he suggested.

Chris' eyes lit up. "Be right back."

_Oh you impossible man, how easy it is to make you happy._ Tom watched him fondly as he strode to the back of the room and started rummaging in Tom's small pantry.

"Upper left shelf," Tom called.

"Ah, with all your other sweet stuff...oh..." Tom heard him rustling, then his head appeared and he held a package aloft. "Would that help with the recharge?" he asked, holding a package of Hob-Nobs up.

Tom chuckled. "Sure."

Satisfied, Chris closed the door behind him and came back to the stove, arranging the sweets on the tray and adding a handful of marshmallows to his hot drink. "Tea done?" he asked.

"Give it another two. Come here and wait it out," Tom beckoned, being rewarded with Chris passing over to him immediately, a happy smile on his face.

"Are you getting a taste for this?" Chris asked, his arms sliding easily around Tom's shoulders.

"I think I've had a taste of this for quite some time," Tom said, his hands finding their way under Chris' shirt. "Just didn't realize it."

"Hm." Chris shivered into the touch. "Me neither, apparently."

They kissed gently, appreciatively. It was nice to have the edge taken off, Tom thought, and being able to appreciate Chris for just being there, instead of his hormones spiking each time he looked at him. He had no idea how long he would feel that way – probably not long, since Chris still felt absolutely fantastic under his hands – but he would take it as long as it held.

"I think the five minutes are over," Tom finally murmured. "Tea's done."

"Hmmm..." Chris seemed as unwilling to leave his embrace as he was, but finally managed to stop kissing him. "I'll get it."

* * *

  
  


When Tom set foot into his living room, he saw that it was gently lit with candles, and he turned around to Chris, who was carrying the tray behind him. "That's lovely, Chris."

Chris smiled at him as he put the tray on the table. "Sure."

Tom took a seat on the sofa, suddenly unsure again how they should do their seating arrangements. Chris just plopped down beside him, making that question moot, and turned towards him, smiling brightly as he rubbed his knee affectionately. "Do you want me to pour your tea?"

"Gosh, no, it's okay, I can do it."

"Suit yourself." Chris placed his mug on the table, as well as the Hob-Nobs, and when Tom had done the same with his pot, cup, and milk, he put the tray aside, "For later."

Tom, still unsure about where to put his arms or legs, made himself busy pouring his tea, adding a splash of milk, just so, and then studiously stirring. In the background, the soundtrack's music started to swell to one of the more rousing pieces. How could it be, he mused as he took a careful first sip, that it was so simple to make love to Chris, and then so incredibly complicated to figure out how to touch him when he wasn't driven by hormones. As if the old rules didn't apply any more, and he hadn't found out what the new ones were yet.

"You're thinking again," Chris pointed out. "I can see it from here." His brows lifted over the edge of the plus-size mug as he took his first sip. "Hmmm..."

"You look like a five-year-old who's allowed to stay up late," Tom said fondly. "Very cute." He waited for Chris to set down the mug, then did the same with his cup, and leaned forward, one hand on Chris' knee, and kissed him gently.

"I brought dessert," Chris mumbled, not protesting very much. "But this is nice, too." His right hand slipped under Tom's shirt and caressed his side. "You feel really nice."

"You taste good." Tom licked along Chris' bottom lip. "Hm, take another sip."

"Later," Chris said. The look in his eyes made Tom shiver, but he didn't protest. Chris adjusted his seat, slipping one leg behind Tom and hooking it around his back, then gestured for Tom to lift his legs over the other, which still had contact with the hardwood floor. When he didn't quite catch on right away, Chris used his arm to adjust him, and when he was finished, he was basically sitting in Chris' lap between his splayed legs, Chris' right knee in his back.

"What are we doing?" he asked nervously.

"Lean back against my knee," Chris instructed, his voice hoarse.

Tom hesitated, suddenly feeling very far out of his depth.

"Tom," Chris said fondly, kissing him again. "Do you trust me not to hurt you?"

"It's not the hurting... I like to know what's going on."

Chris sighed. "It's really hard for you to have someone else take care of you, to just abandon control, isn't it?"

Suddenly feeling a huge lump in his throat, all Tom could do was swallow, and nod. "Yes."

"You're very good at taking care of me," Chris rumbled on, "of making me lose control." He smiled, his thumb running over Tom's lower lip, "And of catching me when you make me fall."

"It's what I know how to do," Tom said. "This is just making me nervous."

"Stop thinking." Chris supported his back as he lowered him over his right knee. "Look at me. You said everything is okay when you look into my eyes."

"Oh god." He could feel his cock rise, against his will, but being bent backwards over Chris' knee, his strong hands at his back, supporting him, and those eyes... those eyes boring into him, just did things to him. Chris smiled at him, that smile that had made Tom believe that everything was going to be okay, right from the first time they met, and he smiled back, maybe tremulously so, but he did.

Chris ducked his head and took the hem of Tom's shirt between his teeth playfully, making Tom giggle. Tom reached out and threaded a hand in Chris' golden locks while the other man pretended to be a dog, growling and tugging at Tom's shirt.

Tom felt himself relax as he laughed about Chris' antics. "You're so silly."

"Uh-huh." Chris grinned and tugged the shirt upwards, so Tom's belly was laid bare. Waggling his brows, Chris pressed his lips against Tom's skin and blew a huge raspberry, making Tom laugh.

"You silly man," he said fondly, still giggling, and then again laughing when Chris did it again. "Oh Chris, I love you so."

Chris gave him a smile, and then kept eye contact as he lowered his head again, this time gently nibbling around Tom's navel, making him twitch. Tom inhaled sharply, but didn't interrupt or stop him, so he kept going, nibbling along Tom's rib line, raising his knee just so that Tom's stomach was at his full disposal.

Tom inhaled sharply, finding himself throwing his head back as he pushed his belly against Chris' face, not needing the added eye contact any more. He felt Chris' hands on his sides, pushing his shirt up further, then lifting him even more pronouncedly against Chris' face as he licked and sucked at Tom's navel. Tom's cock was fully erect now, straining against Chris' chest, stimulated each time Chris moved.

Chris' hands met on Tom's back, just between his shoulder blades, and lifted him up further, into Chris' mouth as he slowly licked his way along Tom's middle line up to his chest, and then he bathed Tom's nipple with his tongue. Tom cried out, clawing at Chris' shoulders, which encouraged the other man to start suckling the hardened nipple, grazing it with his teeth, then sucking it again. Tom's hands dug into Chris' hair, pulling him closer, which Chris rewarded by sucking forcefully, his breath now coming much faster. He switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with attention, causing Tom to bite his lower lip and draw in a hissing breath.

Suspending Tom in this position, Chris shifted so he was on his knees, kneeling between Tom's splayed legs, and slowly lowered him to the sofa, his hands still keeping his back formed into an arch that gracefully curved directly into his lips.

Tom was too fascinated to protest, here he was, on his back on his own sofa, and this vision of a man was bowed over him, tracing the outline of his pecs with his tongue. He reached down and pulled the hem of Chris' shirt up, which Chris easily slipped out of, and discarded it. With his strong hands, Chris lifted him up against his upper body. Both men hissed at the contact. Chris shifted again, and Tom could feel the hardened bulge in his pajama bottoms brush against the erection in his own. He strained upwards, keening, begging for more contact.

Chris crawled forward along his upper body, dipping his head to lick at the smooth column of Tom's neck. It was suddenly impossibly hot in the room as Tom clawed at Chris' back for more friction, his hips snapping upwards to make contact with Chris' cock.

Fortunately, Chris didn't deny him, burying his face against Tom's neck as he slowly dragged his own cock against Tom's, and then did it again, and again. It was just that kind of pressure that made Tom feel his hardness against his own, but not enough to really satisfy.

"Will you kiss me?" Tom begged. "Please?"

Chris looked up at him, his face partially hidden by strands of gold. To Tom, he looked like the image of a god. "No," he forced out.

"Why not?" Tom parted the curtain of Chris' hair with nimble fingers, caressing his face.

"Because I'm going to lose control and somehow make us both come, and I'm not done with you yet."

A wave of arousal swept over Tom. "Oh god," he breathed.

Chris placed a gentle kiss on his sternum. "Are you okay with this?"

"Very." Tom laughed, his voice sounding shaky. "Maybe a little too much."

"Then we should probably take a break," Chris suggested.

"Oh no!" It just slipped out, and made Chris laugh. He slowly sat up, trailing his fingertips along Tom's torso, causing him to writhe under his touch.

"You're so beautiful," he said. "I love looking at you. I love touching you. I love kissing you."

"Likewise," Tom said enthusiastically. "Let's do more of it."

"Have a sip of tea," Chris suggested gently.

Tom thought he was kidding, but Chris extended a hand and pulled him up. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes." Chris touched his jaw and smiled. "That's why we made it, right?"

Tom's mind and arousal were busy with a host of other things. He didn't quite understand what was going on, but watched as Chris took his mug and took another hearty sip, incredibly turned on by the way his adam's apple moved as he swallowed. He leaned forward and licked along it, his tongue pressed against Chris' neck as his adam's apple moved up and down with each gulp. It was so wanton, but it felt so incredibly good. His hand slid up Chris' leg, across his abdomen, but when it drifted towards Chris’ cock, Chris stopped him.

“Now who can’t wait,” he chided gently. “Have that tea, Tom.”

“Is this retribution for last night?” Tom growled, his brow furrowed.

Chris laughed, setting down his mug. “No. But it is funny to see you’re just as impatient.”

“Have you looked at yourself lately?” Tom murmured, but reached for his tea nonetheless.

Chris chuckled and reached over to rub Tom’s back. When Tom had emptied his cup, and poured anew, his hand slid upwards and his fingers teased against the short hair at his neck. Tom finished pouring quickly, pressing up against Chris’ fingers.

“Come sit in my lap,” Chris suggested gently. “I’d like you to straddle my legs.”

Tom closed his eyes, a shiver running through him. He felt his breath hitch and his chest compress and just felt so incredibly silly, but he just couldn’t help it, he felt uncomfortable with the request.


	16. Letting Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The basic warnings: My characters actually have feelings and express them, and why would you want to read this at work or school, I don't know.

“Look at me,” Chris prompted. “Tom, please.”

Even that was hard, but Tom eventually did it, slumped forward, he looked over his shoulder at Chris.

“Talk to me,” Chris said. “You’ve been sitting on top of me plenty today. What’s different now?”

Tom ducked his head and let his hand run through his hair. “On top of you, yeah.” He let the occasions play through his mind, how he had straddled Chris in the sunlight this afternoon, and sat in his lap in the bathroom atop the chair. “I don’t like not being in charge,” he said.

“Tom, you know you can say stop when it’s uncomfortable, any time,” Chris said. “Right?”

“It’s really uncomfortable right now.”

“Tell me why.”

_Dammit._ “I’m not you! It’s just not that easy for me!”

“What isn’t?” When Tom couldn’t answer, Chris reached out and pulled him into an embrace and Tom let himself be pulled, be hugged, burying his face against Chris’ neck. “You know I don’t want to torture you, but seeing you so cramped up is making me hurt, Tom.”

Tom had a beligerent, hurtful comment on his tongue but managed to swallow it. “Me, too,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, just tell me what’s going on up there.” Chris kissed his forehead.

Tom groaned. He knew he was being childish and honestly asked himself how long Chris would let him behave like this before he lost patience with him. “It is so damn uncomfortable that I wonder what I could do to make you back off,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry, Chris.” He looked up, and found nothing but patience and love in they eyes that looked back.

“You know that my Dad works in child protection, right?” Chris asked him. “Trust me, I’ve seen and heard it all. I’ve been helping and mentoring for quite some time before I got into this acting gig, even a bit while I did. It’s really hard to shock me, whatever it is.”

“I’m not a child,” Tom pouted.

Chris just raised a brow at him.

“Okay, okay,” Tom relented. He slipped his arms around Chris’ torso and got properly snuggled in, reveling in Chris’ arm around his shoulders. “That feels kinda nice.”

“Yes.” Chris took a deep breath. “But I really want to make some more love to you, Tom.” He kissed his temple, his arm contracting around Tom’s shoulders.

The soundtrack changed to the last song, a sad lament, the singer’s voice carrying hauntingly over the music. Tom let his thoughts go where they wanted, just rubbing Chris’ belly, tracing his fingertips along every muscle, reveling in every dip and rise. Chris was so beautiful, such a gentle soul wrapped in this powerful package. Tom loved making love to him, loved making him lose himself completely, which Chris did with trust and abandon, never once questioning Tom’s motives, or that he might let him fall, or make fun of him. He didn’t quite know what had made him take Chris like this earlier, in the shower, basically pushing him into a woman’s role, but Chris had just taken him in, let him have him, completely trusting where Tom was taking him, that where he would arrive would be beautiful and blissful.

Things were clearly divided, Tom realized, when you were with a woman. One had to receive, the other was the giver. That was the role he was used to. When they were two men, things started to be a bit more complicated. If he insisted on being the “man” in the relationship - and the way his stomach contracted just thinking about it told him that he wasn’t too far off from the truth - it would mean he would try to make this virile man into something he wasn’t. Clearly, while being very happy to be made love to, Chris was now interested in making love to him, being the giver, while Tom was asked to receive, be passive.

Being passive, to Tom, felt strange. Just as letting someone take care of him did. It made him vulnerable, and he didn’t like that feeling. True intimacy, though, was not achievable without being vulnerable. He knew that, too. If he wanted to be with Chris, he would have to learn to let him in.

It was a startling and slightly frightful realization.

The soundtrack ended, and the music changed to one of Tom’s favorite albums of all time, _Bon Iver_. The soothing first few chords of _Perth_ wafted over them, immediately soothing his frayed nerves. It always had that effect on him, setting him at ease.

He squeezed Chris’ torso. “I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry it takes me so long to figure this out.” He looked up, mesmerized once more by just how blue Chris’ eyes were. “Can we sit like we just did?” he asked.

“Sure.” Chris immediately shifted his seat and hooked his leg behind Tom once more for him to lean into. It felt nice and safe, such support at his back, and still so close to Chris. Tom leaned sideways against the sofa’s back, his arm stretched along Chris’, leaning his head against his shoulder and just looked at him. “Why do you want me to sit in your lap?” he asked.

Chris raised an eyebrow, his left hand caressing Tom’s legs. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he rumbled. “But I’m kind of Team Beanpole these days.”

It made Tom smile. “I noticed.”

“Hm.” Chris leaned in and kissed him softly. “If you sit on my lap, I can just go crazy on this.” He let his hand press against Tom’s stomach. “The way you move against me makes me go a little gaga,” he confessed. “I can’t get enough of it, and if you straddle my legs I kind of have this fantasy of...” He had the grace to blush here, “taking full advantage of how bendy you are and just...”

“Bending me to your will?” Tom let the blond tresses slip through his fingers.

“Lust, Tom. Let’s be real here, it’s more like bending you to my lust.” The next kiss was a little more insistent, deeper, lighting a fire in Tom’s belly that he couldn’t deny.

“Hmmm...” Tom hummed. He pressed his chest against Chris’, his hand in Chris’ hair, answering his kiss with his own passion. Before he could get lost in it, Chris broke the kiss and looked at him. His eyes were dark with arousal, and he cupped Tom’s jaw in his strong hand, brushing his thumb across his lower lip.

“I know what I want,” he rasped. “I want you, Tom. I want you. But... I don’t want you to agree to anything now because you can’t think straight, and then regret it later. Okay? That’s why I’m making you stop and think.”

“Can’t think straight? Funny.” Tom captured Chris’ lips in another kiss, relieved that Chris let him. “I was just thinking about that, how... how straight my head still thinks. I keep thinking in gender roles... who’s the man, how does a man behave... I’m meeting my limits here, big time.”

“And you think I’m making you the woman?” Chris’ brows shot right up, he seemed a little insulted.

“No, no, god forbid, Chris, no. If anything, I can’t get out of wanting to prove how damn manly I am... and that’s what’s screwing this up, Chris. You are perfect.”

He could see in Chris’ face that he had really hit a nerve, because Chris was not as relaxed any more, his brow knitted. “I’m trying not to be hurt here,” Chris said, definitely sounding hurt, “but you are aware that I’m just _leaving_ a woman because of you, and... damn, you’re definitely not a woman.”

“Gah.” Tom scrabbled to say something. “Chris, you told me to tell you what’s going on my head, and this is it!” he said, maybe a little too loud. “I’m so damn insecure about being manly enough that I’m screwing this up, okay? I need to prove how... how much I’m in charge so I can feel better about myself, and when you’re asking me to just give control to you, it just... it just scares me of what I’m going to find. Maybe I am not a real man. Maybe I like being submissive. Maybe I’m tired of having to prove myself over and over and over... aw, fuck.” He could feel tears spring to his eyes, the last thing he wanted. How manly was that?

“Tom.” Obviously not willing to discuss this any further, Chris simply scooped him up and made him straddle his legs, kneeling over Chris. He grabbed his shoulders, making him look at him. “I will tell you what I love about you, Tom. I love that I can have fun with you, and wrestle and have stunt fights and joke and play video games and do all kind of childish stuff. But if that was all I wanted, I’d hang out with my brothers who will do all that with me, too. What I really love about you, what fascinates me and makes me want you so damn much is all the things I’m not - your learnedness, and your manners, and the way you speak and all the things you know and all the things I can learn from you. I really wouldn’t want to make love with someone who looks like me. I want this. You. Team Beanpole all the way. You’re plenty man enough for me.”

“I’m so uncool,” Tom mewled.

Chris laughed. “Thank god.”

Tom sat up straight and looked at Chris. “Okay then, have me,” he said bravely. “In a manly fashion.”

Chris laughed even more, but he set his naked feet on the edge of the coffee table behind him, providing a back rest for Tom, then reached for the back of his neck and pulled him in a crushing kiss. Tom’s toes curled and he pushed his hips against Chris', suddenly feeling very, very hot. Chris didn’t let him catch a breath as he moved from his lips to his neck, licking and biting, both hands sliding up his ribs, thumbs flicking at his nipples roughly, and back to his mouth, kissing him deeply, demandingly, very clearly marking him as his.

And Tom... just gave in. Gave in to Chris wanting him that much. He moved into Chris’ touch, covering Chris’ hands with his own, his pelvis undulating against Chris, willing him to get hard and fuck him.

Chris moaned, the grip of his hands bruising as he pushed Tom back against his legs, and his lips moved down Tom’s neck, along his collar bone and then biting along the outline of his pecs before they closed around his nipple and licked and sucked. Tom bit his lower lip, his hips now bucking against Chris’, hand clawed into Chris’ hair.

Chris’ eyes were a little crazy when he looked up, his eyes burning into Tom’s. “I will tell you what else I love about you. I can’t break you,” he rasped, then got busy with Tom’s other nipple, causing the older man to cry out and buck upwards, against Chris’ torso pinning him down safely.

“Why would you break me?” he managed to rasp out.

“Downside of being this size,” Chris panted, then gave him a rueful smile. “I’m constantly afraid I’m breaking people if I’m not careful.”

“Oh.” He’d never thought about that. Distracted by the sensations thrumming through his body, he repositioned his legs so his feet were planted beside Chris’ hips, his toes digging into the seat cushions. He slid downward until his crack was smack over Chris’ now rock hard cock, and adjusted his pants for room, then started rocking against it. He suddenly realized that while this position was maybe making him vulnerable, it also gave him an incredible amount of power over Chris’ passion.

“Christ, Tom.” Chris pushed against him and upwards, his eyes rolling back in his head. “You’re killing me. God, you’re...” He groaned deep in his chest, slowly losing control.

The song ended and _Holocene_ came on, the perfect harmony causing Tom to relax into the position. He leaned back, his pelvis supported by Chris’ thighs, his upper body now curving over his knees. Tom’s head thrown back, he pushed his midriff up for Chris to enjoy, the following sensation of Chris’ face pressing into him, the rough hair of his beard tantalizing counterpoint to his hot, wet tongue. 

“Slow down a bit,” Tom asked, his hand at the back of Chris’ head. “Take your time. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Chris heaved a mountainous sigh, but Tom’s instincts were instantly proven right. He felt very keenly that Chris needed... he had a hard time thinking it to himself, but he felt that Chris needed time to worship him. What a novel idea. The problem wasn’t that Chris didn’t know how to be a slow, worshipful lover, the problem was that he, Tom, did not know how to be loved that way.

Chris liked him to be bendy, he would be bendy. He pushed backwards, trying to find out just how far he could take Chris’ knees as an anchor to pushing himself upwards. His pelvis ended up nearly parallel to the ground, with Chris’ very appreciative, gentle but powerful hands supporting his back as his mouth continued exploring him, soft sighs and groans escaping him as he kissed and liked his way across Tom’s abdomen and along his rib line.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Tom was too intent on keeping his posture to answer, and the music, together with Chris’ love,  was slowly putting him into a trance of pure bliss. When Chris slowly inched down the waistband of his pajama bottoms, he was neither surprised nor alarmed, nor felt Chris’ tongue on his cock anything but right and wonderful. He realized that he was basically pushing himself into Chris’ face, but since the other man was taking such advantage of the opportunity, it didn’t seem to be unwanted. Chris took his time, exploring every inch of him with a soft tongue, slipping his pajamas low enough that he could do the same thing to his balls, nudging them, licking, sucking them into his mouth one by one, trying out their shape and size. Tom lifted his head to see what Chris was doing and the sight was so incredibly erotic that Tom honestly asked himself why he had not always been like this, knowing that loving Chris would be the best thing that could ever happen to him.

Chris noticed him watching and smiled, nudging his balls gently with his nose, and said: “I think it’s time you lose these, lover,” as he snapped Tom’s waistband. He helped Tom to sit up and took his own bottoms off while Tom slipped out of his and then went back to straddling Chris’ legs.

“Chris,” Tom said in a very low voice, just so say his name. “Chris.”

Chris smiled back at him. “Are you okay, love?” he asked.

“More than.” Tom kissed him gently. “You’re an incredible lover.”

“Hm.” Chris’ hands slipped around Tom’s ass and he made him lift up to his knees. “We’ll see.” He nudged Tom’s erection with his nose, and then slid down a little more. Tom wondered what he was planning to do when he felt Chris’ hot mouth on the inside of his thighs, and his knees nearly buckled.

“Oh... Chris.” He leaned forward, bracing himself against the sofa’s back. Chris was slowly making love to him with his mouth while his hands caressed his ass, squeezing him, stroking again, a teasing finger finding its way into his crack.

A bead of pre-come appeared on the tip of Tom’s cock, but he felt as if he could do this forever. He’d never been made love to like that, with such abandon, such worship. As Chris licked wantonly at his balls, and then took the skin between in his lips and sucked it gently, Tom squeezed his eyes shut and gave a little "Ah!" and a hiss. “So good, so good, oh Chris, so good.” He didn’t feel like speeding him on, every moment existed in its own time and lasted forever. Chris pushed himself up a little, then let his hand slide up Tom’s legs to his hips and pulled him forward into his mouth. Remembering that Chris liked it when he moved, Tom rolled his pelvis and leaned back a little, causing Chris to moan appreciatively and one of his hands slid up, over his stomach and across his pecs, brushing against his nipple. Chris looked up, his face pressed against Tom’s stomach, a blissful smile on his face. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Tom’s brow contracted. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, his voice nearly toneless. “Chris.” His chest contracted and then he simply cried out when Chris took him in hand and wantonly licked the pre-come out of his slit. “Oh god, Chris.”

“Am I doing okay?” Chris asked, just the slightest twinkle in his eye.

“Couldn’t do better... fuck... Oh my GOD.” Chris was now obviously trying to milk some more of that pre-come out of him, and the sudden grip on his cock combined with Chris’ mouth sucking at the tip as if it was a tit was creating an indescribable sensation. “Stop killing me, Chris, stop killing me, oh my god, stop, too much, stop.”

Chris did stop, putting a gentle kiss on the head of Tom’s cock, then he pushed himself backwards until he sat comfortably on the sofa, his back supported by its cushions. 

"Come let me taste you,” he said gently, and Tom found himself scooting forward on his knees until his cock was level with Chris’ mouth. The man did not take him in mouth right away, but kissed his way from one hip bone to the next, nibbled at his shaft, nibbled along his V, licked upwards at it, licked his cock, then took him in hand and started a slow pump, which Tom answered with his hips rolling forward, into Chris, and he finally took him in his mouth. He was so incredibly warm and wet, and welcoming, his tongue alternately sucking, licking, pulsating all around him. Leaning over Chris on his elbows, Tom was crouched over him, slowly fucking his face, pushing in languidly, Chris’ hands between his legs, caressing him, his balls, his crack... at some point Tom simply forgot time and space and just this existed, Chris making such exquisite, beautiful love to him, the way he felt, the way he took care of him, their sighs and moans filling the room with the most arousing sounds. 

Then Chris started humming around him, taking him in to the back of his throat, and Tom found himself releasing quite suddenly down Chris’ throat, his seed pumping into him as he cried out, babbling incoherently, crouched over his lover’s shoulders and shuddering to the core with each pump into Chris. He was way overstimulated, too sensitive, his cock was simply done for the day. Whimpering, he begged Chris to stop, his voice shaky. Chris looked up at him and did release him, very slowly. He blinked, there were tears in his eyes as he kissed gentle kisses on the skin around Tom’s cock. He gestured for Tom to lie down on his back, his eyes begging to comply without asking or doubting.

Tom simply did, and just accepted Chris crouching over him, kissing him gently while he started to frantically work on his still hard cock, pining for release.

“Chris,” he whispered. “Oh, Chris.” And did what he knew would kick Chris over the edge, he arched upwards into Chris’ body, clawing into his shoulders, his pelvis pushing against Chris’.

There was nothing demeaning in Chris coming hard, his semen spurting over Tom’s stomach and chest as he gave a strangled cry, his cock jumping in his hand. And nothing unmanly in cradling him against his shoulder afterwards until he had stopped crying.

* * *

“Are you comfortable?” Tom padded to the light switch and used it, leaving the bedroom bathed only in the light of the two candles Chris had asked him to place on the nightstand. Chris was already curled up on the bed, covered in a warm duvet, actually looking a little small on his huge bed.

“Only when you’re here,” Chris said. “Hurry.”

Tom smiled and crawled his way up the bed, lying down beside Chris and being enveloped in his blanket and pulled closer in an instant.

“Ah,” Chris sighed. “Better.”

Tom smiled at him as the other man used his chest as a pillow, his beard tickling his skin. He let a hand run through his hair in a soothing motion, watching contentedly as Chris’ eyes drifted closed. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” Chris was still coherent enough to place a small kiss on Tom’s skin.

A moment later, they were both asleep.


	17. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris deal with their intense night together, each man in his own way.

It was icy and dark when Tom woke up. Shivering, he realized he'd kicked off his duvet. There was hardly any illumination in the room, but he could make out Chris' shape hogging most of the space, including the duvet in question. Tom blinked, and his eyes sought out the alarm clock. It was 5:30am.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then just got up before he could think too much about it. It was cold in his flat, him turning down the heat at night, and he snatched a dressing gown off its hook by the bedroom door and tied it on as he padded into the living room.

He turned on the central heating and opened the blinds that covered the large bay windows, then simply snatched a blanket and huddled down by the heater. His legs drawn up, he wrapped his arms around them and stared sightlessly out his windows.

It was simply all too much.

There had been so much happening, all these things that tore his life upside-down. On Friday, he'd thought he'd pretty much had it all figured out, all his players in place, and a good idea of who he was, and where he was going.

Today... this morning, right now... 

He shivered, the arms around his legs contracting. His eyes fell on the sofa, and he leaned against the heater, letting the metal bite into his back. He'd managed to put away the cups and pot before they went to bed. But he'd been on his back there, Chris crouched over him. He'd been covered in his come, with the man panting over him, crying out with his release.

And he'd loved it. He craved it. The way Chris made love to him. The way Chris smelled, laughed, breathed. The way Chris turned him upside-down, inside-out. The way he shaped him. The way Tom could simply pour himself into his hands and knew he was absolutely safe.

Chris had cried for so long. Tom had cursorily wiped himself off with his own night shirt so he could draw Chris into a tight embrace, wrapping him into a cocoon of his long limbs as tightly as he could, and Chris had cried like a baby, his whole strong, powerful body wracked with sobs. From the moment they had returned home, no, from the moment the door to that cab had closed, they'd been opening each other up, had thrown themselves recklessly into this new thing that happened between them, tried out the shape and size of it, and with each round of lovemaking, had found new bliss, new discoveries, had found that they were completely and utterly safe with the other person.

Tom felt like he'd been skinned; he existed of nothing but nerve endings, completely vulnerable. He _wanted_ to be completely stripped with Chris, _wanted_ him to see him. He wanted to see Chris. He had seen him at his weakest, his whole body shaking under the onslaught of his feelings. He didn't have to say anything. There was nothing to say. When you had been in the dark for so long, and suddenly looked into the light like this, when what was your heart's desire was suddenly in your hands, the relief was incredible. The thought that he, Tom, could do something like this for Chris was hard to grasp. It was a little too much to bear, so Tom tried to just comfort him and not shoulder the responsibility, but it was hard. 

And he wanted to do it again. When Chris looked at him like that, he knew he'd do it again. Just throw out all that manliness malarkey and be who Chris needed. Be who... and that was so unfathomable... who he was. Start filling out the shape of who he was supposed to be instead of trying to live up to an ideal that... he didn't know what he had been thinking.

He didn't know how to face the next day. He didn't know how to face tea with his family today. He wasn't the Tom he'd been on Friday. He wasn't the Tom they expected to see. He wasn't... he would never be who they expected again. Never. For someone who had striven to meet expectations his whole life, he was certainly not striving to meet any of theirs right now, right this moment. What happened between Chris and him was something completely new, mad, exhilarating, but definitely not what they expected. He would not fill the mold. He felt that he was on the verge of just telling them to screw the mold.

He had seen, in Chris, what it meant to just embrace that change, to simply take it on with such exuberance and delight. He wanted that for himself. Instead of clinging to what he'd known and what he was afraid of, he just wanted to celebrate who he was becoming. Sometimes thinking so much was not a good thing; his imagination vivid enough to paint any occurrence in garish colors. He was still so afraid, and he was starting to get sick of it. It was like being stuffed into a straightjacket. For the longest time, he'd imagined that lying low and not going there was keeping him safe. Right now he just felt like he was suffocating in those restrictions.

But between what he'd been, or believed to have to be, and where he wanted to be were still so many steps to take. And as much as he just wanted to jump right into it and embark on that adventure, he felt very keenly that he had hit the limit of what he could take. He was at the same time exhilarated and completely overwhelmed, ready to go and at the end of his strength. He knew he wouldn't survive another day like that, but he didn't know how to stop the momentum that was propelling them forward like a steam train.

He wanted to crawl back into their bed and bask in Chris' embrace. And he wanted to be somewhere else completely to have a moment's peace, to just check out of this for a moment, just be alone with himself and his thoughts... or just be alone with nothing new coming at him.

He ran a hand through his hair and then just got up. The last thing he wanted was to wake Chris; he simply needed a moment to himself. So he tiptoed into his walk-in-closet and threw on a winter running outfit, long running tights and a tight gore tex jacket. He found his dirty-weather runners and a cap to wear against the wind. It didn't matter to him that it was still dark out; he'd run in near dark many times. For a moment, he contemplated just leaving, but he didn't know whether Chris would wake up while he was gone or not. He didn't want to wake him and face the questions, or worse, his – most likely successful – attempts to lure him back into bed. 

Thinking it a good compromise, he walked into the kitchen and scribbled a short note on a piece of paper, which he pinned to the coffee maker. It should be the first thing Chris would see if he walked in.

He grabbed his keys and made his way out.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Chris woke up, he was alone. Something had woken him; the sound of a door clapping, maybe? He sat up straight, a little disoriented. "Tom?"

There was no answer, and when his eyes fell on the alarm clock, it showed the unholy time of ten to six in the morning. Groaning, Chris plopped back into the sheets. It was too close to the time he usually got up at for his body to go back to sleep. It was too early to be up on a Sunday, too.

"Tom?"

He groped for the light switch and squinted his eyes at the sudden illumination. "Tom, come on, where are you?"

But there was no sound in the flat other than the faint hum of the heating. Chris' heart plummeted. He had no idea his mood was capable of switching that fast, from utterly content to terrified in less than a second. His heart thumped in his chest as his thoughts raced through the possible implications. Had he just left? When? Would he come back? _Why hadn't he said anything?_

Unable to stay in bed, Chris got up, scratching his belly as he found a pair of Tom's slippers to wear. He tapped over to the bathroom, just to check, but Tom wasn't in it, either.

"Tom?"

He made his way to the living room, which lay in total darkness. He noticed that it was getting warm in here and the blinds were drawn, so Tom might have been here, and then..? What on earth had made him leave at this hour? And where? Filled with dread, he walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. It was empty, as well, but there was a note attached to the coffee maker.

_Good morning, love._

_I couldn't lie still any more and went for a run._

_I didn't want to wake you,_

_you were sleeping so blissfully._

_Please forgive me._

_Love,_

_Tom._

Chris read the note once, twice. He found his fingertips tracing the writing and then groaned, running his hand through his hair. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Why hadn't he heard him when he got up? Why hadn't he noticed earlier than Tom was not by his side? Frustrated, he slammed the note onto the counter, trying to think.

Yes, the missed opportunity of waking up with Tom in his arms upset him. On the other hand, if he was completely honest with himself... what he'd asked Tom to do last night had been a lot. He knew it. It had been so apparent in Tom's eyes. He had asked him, once more, to keep pushing his boundaries, to do more than he would be initially willing to do. And then had first come all over him, and then cried on him for a good half hour, which would make most people panic and run.

Chris hadn't fallen apart like this since he first laid eyes on India. He'd been a mess then, but this was different. If he was honest with himself, his own soul was still quivering, and it was a heavy burden to put on someone else. Maybe if he was Tom, he'd run, too.

"Please come back," he murmured, his hand on the note. "Fuck, let me at least apologize, Tom."

He knew that if he had found something that made him happy, he could be relentless in pursuing it. And he couldn't help pursuing this, pursuing Tom, desperate to forge a connection that would not slip through his hands again, whatever the world would throw at them. And throw things at them it would, that much was certain.

He shivered, the flat still fairly cold. Now that he knew where Tom was, and that he would most likely come back, he made his way back to the bedroom and changed out of his pajama into his jeans, a shirt, and a warm cardigan. There was no way he could go back to sleep now, or pretend that the fact that Tom had just left wasn't affecting him. He took care to smooth the bed and make it look inviting, in case Tom would want to lie in it with him later. He then straightened the bedroom, putting away a few of the things he'd left lying about last night. Then found himself without anything to do and just stood there, hands in his jean pockets, staring.

"Tom, fuck, where are you?"

His fingers brushed over the phone in his pocket, and he briefly wondered whether he should text him, but something made him hesitate. He'd put so much on him, and they'd spent every waking – and sleeping – second on and with each other since he'd arrived Friday evening. He knew Tom long enough to know that he craved some privacy every now and then. If the ever-polite, super considerate, always-apologizing Tom Hiddleston just left without a word, then he, Chris, had probably taken it too far. And that was saying something.

"You're an idiot, Chris." He shifted his weight. "An idiot in love." He grinned to himself. _In love_ was putting it mildly. "Okay, completely head-over-heels madly in love," he murmured to himself. But he still had no idea what to do with himself until Tom got back. He briefly wondered if he should take a look at his lines, but he was too wound up. Sure, he could try and read a book or watch a movie or whatever. But really, all he wanted was Tom, and he knew he wouldn't be able to calm down until he came home and he had proof that he hadn't screwed up completely by wanting too much, too soon.

He made his way back into the kitchen and kicked off a cup of coffee. Last night's tray was still on the counter, and he finally opened the package of treats and had a Hob-Nob to calm down his nerves. While the water heated, and then percolated into the mug, he put last night's dishes into the washer and put away the tray. The opened package of Hob-Nobs still in his reach, he had another. Closing his eyes, he thought about last night, Tom in his lap, bending over his knees, the plane of his abdomen at Chris' disposal.

He felt his cock stir and moaned under his breath. There was something about Tom asserting his dominance like he had in the shower last night, and something about him submitting to Chris' hunger for him that did something completely different. Chris was sure he was quite happy with Tom just having his way with him. Tom was an inventive and versatile lover and Chris was very happy to give him the lead. But then last night, on that sofa, he needed Tom to come to him for once. He had so needed to express his desire for every aspect of that man, needed to be able to show him just how much he loved him, worshiped him. And realized too late that he was maybe worshiping parts of Tom that Tom himself wasn't too comfortable with in the first place. 

Chris took his coffee and took a tentative sip, finding it still too hot. He added some milk and a generous amount of sugar and it became drinkable. He nursed it, unable to move from his spot by the coffee maker as his thoughts wandered to why he was so damn attracted to that slim package. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he definitely did want to put his hands on it. 

His ever-raunchy thoughts made him chuckle. The fact that he was still craving Tom after having made love to him five times the previous day was proof enough to him that whatever was going on here wasn't a fling. He wanted this man like he'd never wanted anything or anyone before.

Then he found himself wandering Tom's flat, restlessly moving through the space, taking it in and at the same time, not noticing it at all while his thoughts worked overtime. 

He took his cup of coffee along up the creaking flight of stairs to the gallery and grinned at the mess that was Tom's "office", or, as he called it himself, "my personal pig sty", which was covered with photos and notes for his various projects, a promotional poster for "Thor" framed behind the desk. He finally discovered the guest bedroom, a comfortable, small affair under the roof behind the office, and found himself appraising its potential as a place for India to grow up in.

"Oh, god," he groaned. He was already making plans for building a family with Tom, racing ahead once again. If he didn't stop that, he was very aware there was a chance he might lose Tom after all. The thought alone made his heart clench. "Don't be an idiot, Chris," he admonished himself. "Get a grip, dammit."

Chris wandered back out to the gallery, and then just sat down on the stairs. He missed Tom. He decided he would steadfastly wait here, where he could hear him come into the flat, and see him the moment he'd open the door to the living room. Maybe that was clingy and stupid and all those things, but he didn't care. He just wanted Tom. He desperately needed to know they were okay.

As he sat down, the coffee cup on the stair beside him, the phone in his pocket cut into his thigh, and he fished it out, staring at it for a moment. He didn't feel like calling Elsa early; he just needed some time with Tom before he could deal with that. He unlocked the phone and checked the time. It was just past 6.30. There were a few notifications for him, but no one he felt like contacting right now. 

Chris took another sip of coffee, then opened a text message window.

"Dad," he wrote. "I've got to tell you something." He paused, staring at the screen, and then typed very quickly: "I fell in love with a man." He knew his dad would not judge, never had, and would not care about anything but him, and that was exactly what he needed right now. Someone to talk to. Someone who he could talk to about Tom. About the horrible mess he was currently making. He pressed "send".

He had no idea whether his father would have his phone nearby. Sometimes he just turned it off, especially in the evening, when he settled down to watch the news and his favorite shows. He valued his downtime, and Chris had learned from him that it was as precious as the time you spent working on something. He settled his phone on his thigh and took his coffee mug between his hands, letting it warm him. It was peaceful, dawn slowly leaking into the bay windows, its red color intimating another sunny day. The gentle hum of the central heating and the ticking of the old-fashioned clock that Tom kept on his living room shelf – an heirloom from his late grandfather - nearly lulled Chris to sleep.

His phone buzzed, and Chris quickly opened the screen again.

"Are you using protection?" was his Dad's reply.

Chris groaned, and chuckled at the same time. This was so... Dad. Then he thought about it and realized they weren't. He blinked and felt himself blushing a very deep shade of red. They were not engaging in any anal practices, but both he and Tom had spent quite some time with each other's cocks in their mouths, and he knew enough about HIV and STDs to recognize the practice as a potential source of transmission.

"We're both clean," he texted back, hoping that would assuage his father's concern. He knew he was, but he had no idea whether Tom had had any sexual contact with anyone since his last girlfriend, which was quite a bit ago. He _hoped_ that Tom would have let him know if there was anything he needed to know, but he couldn't be sure.

Too late, he realized that he had just told his Dad that he was actually having sex with the man he fell in love with. He had just admitted to cheating on his wife.

"Son, you know we love you no matter what," came the reply from his Dad, and then: "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"I think he's the love of my life," Chris texted back quickly. "I think I've been in love with him for a very long time." He pushed send, then typed, "I think I've been a huge idiot about everything."

He stared at the blinking cursor until the next message came up.

"Do we know him?"

He suddenly realized that coming out about this was him racing ahead once more. He should have included Tom in that. He hadn't. Trying to curb the damage, he typed quickly: "Yes, but I'm not sure he's ready to come out so I can't tell you who it is." He hit send, then added: "Yet."

"Is it serious?" His father gauged his commitment.

"I'm more serious about this than I ever have been serious about anything," he typed back. He felt his throat close on him and added. "I love him so much I think I'm going a bit mad."

It took a while for the next text message to appear. Chris didn't mind. He took another sip of coffee, suddenly very grateful for this opportunity to reflect on what had been happening with him and Tom so far. It gave him the opportunity to realize that what he had felt yesterday was not going away. He still wanted Tom so badly it felt like his heart was going to burst. And he wasn't reluctant in the slightest about acknowledging his feelings towards someone else.

He truly was in deep.

"Son," his Dad's text appeared next, "I trust that you've thought about what you're doing." Chris nearly choked on his laugh when he read that. There hadn't been much thought involved, if he was honest with himself. But before he could type an answer, another text popped up: "And you are aware of the consequences this may have for you and your family."

He mulled over the two texts for a moment. He'd initially tried to contact his father to talk about Tom, and how crazy he was about him, and that he felt like he was losing his mind a bit. Now this swerved into him leaving Elsa and India behind. This last day with Tom had been so all-encompassing that it really was easy to forget them. He didn't know what to think about himself, really. Was he such a monster that he would just forget them, and constantly needed other people to remind him of what he was losing over this?

Whatever trust Chris had once had in his judgment was fading fast, and left nothing but doubt and desperation behind.

Chris closed the message app and dialed his father's number. He picked up mid-ring.

"Chris, what's going on? Where are you?"

His voice brought back the many times during his adolescence that he'd screwed up and got into scrapes and his dad had just been there, no questions asked, had just bailed him or Liam or Luke out and then, much after the fact, after he'd made sure that his boys were safe, had he sat them down for a talk, and the decision of what consequences their misbehavior was going to have. He'd never let them get away with anything, but if you were in trouble, you called. It was just this security that Dad could sort it out for him, would be stern and point out where he was going wrong, but in the end, would be able to make it better, that Chris craved. No, he didn't feel very grown up right now. He needed his Dad, and he wasn't ashamed of it in the least.

"I'm at his house for the weekend, Dad. Elsa's visiting her family with India." Said like that, it sounded as if this had been planned. "I came here to work, honestly."

"I'm tempted to ask if I should pick you up," his Dad said.

"I know, I was just thinking about that." He ran a hand through his hair. "Dad, I think I need help."

"Well, I'm here." So simple.

Suddenly faced with that offer, Chris didn't know where to start. "Ask me a question."


	18. Cat in the Bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that I have that odd aversion about using real people's names if they're not in a profession that puts them in the public eye? I renamed Chris' parents. I hope it's not to jarring.

"What happened?" his father asked simply.

Chris drew a deep breath. "If I go into the details, you'll probably know who it is," he said.

"I think I may have an idea who it is," his Dad said. "I understand that you want to keep his privacy, especially if he doesn't know that you call. Does he know?"

"No." Chris felt like he wanted to sob. "I feel like I'm doing everything wrong. I feel like I can't do anything right right now."

"We all make mistakes," his father said, repeating a much-heard mantra from his childhood. "It's how we deal with them what defines us."

"This doesn't feel like a mistake, Dad," Chris said, allowing his desperation to show in his voice. "It feels like... like I'm finally doing the right thing. As if everything suddenly makes sense."

He heard a door clap in his father's home, and his mother's voice saying hello to his father. 

"Chris, your mother just got home," his father said. "Do you want to talk to her?"

He bit his lower lip. "I can't." He said. "She'd be so disappointed in me."

He heard his mother ask who he was talking to. "It's Chris. He's in trouble." And then to Chris: "You may underestimate your mother, Chris."

"Okay then." He found himself curling up on his stair, the arm that was not used to hold the phone to his ear wrapped tightly around his knees. "Can I talk to both of you?"

"I'll put you on speaker."

"What's going on, Chris? Are you okay? Are Elsa and India?"

He just wanted to scream. "Mom, I... they're not here, Elsa and India are visiting with her family in Spain because I'm on such a tight schedule on _Thor_ for the next two weeks. I'm still in London. I... I asked someone to help me with my lines because I had trouble with them and... and..."

"He fell in love with someone else," his father supplied. "He says it's serious."

"Oh, Chris." His mother's voice was laced with the disappointment he'd feared. "Who is she?"

"It's a he," said his father. "We were just talking about that."

"Is it Tom?" his mother asked right-out. Chris didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry at this point. Had everyone known except them?

"He can't say as the other person doesn't know he's telling us about it," said his father.

"Oh." There was a short pause. "I'll just listen for a bit, then."

"You were just saying?" his dad prompted. "You were just saying everything suddenly makes sense."

"Yes." He felt a little shy suddenly, knowing his mom was listening in. If she'd been so fast to guess Tom, what did she know that he didn't? What was she thinking? "You said we are measured by how we deal with our mistakes, and... and this doesn't feel like a mistake."

"How long have you been involved with him?" asked his mother.

"We've known each other for a few years," he supplied. "I... I think I always liked him but it just didn't work out when we first met."

"And now it did?"

"It kind of exploded," Chris said. "Like we're catching up on years of missed opportunities. I feel like I'm losing my mind. It's all happened so fast and I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I just want to get lost in this and never come out. And I'm completely aware how crazy this must sound and how horrid this must look, like I'm just swayed away from my wife and child by the first opportunity. This isn't a joke to me. It's just... I can't stop. I don't want to. Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry..." He got choked up. "I'm so sorry I'm disappointing you like that. I just don't know what to do."

"About what?" asked his mother, her voice full of compassion.

"I don't want to hurt anyone, and I can't seem to do anything but. Elsa... Elsa figured it out when we talked on the phone yesterday but I didn't know yet how serious it is so... so we just said we'd talk again today. I'll have to tell her... I'll have to tell her I'm staying with him. I don't want to lose her, but I can't lose him. Not again."

"How does he feel about you?" she asked.

"The... the same way."

"Has he asked you to leave her?"

"God, no. He's the one who keeps hitting me over the head when I get in too deep," Chris said. "That's the other thing, I'm completely losing perspective. He's the one who keeps reminding me to go slow. He's had me swear on my knees that I'd take care of Elsa and India or he wouldn't even consider being with me. By now I think he's given up trying to get me to my senses and give this up." He swallowed. "But it is so hard on him. He doesn't like the circumstances any more than I do."

"Is he not home right now? Does he know you're calling us?"

"No, I... I think I screwed that up, too. He's out running. I'm alone. He didn't tell me he would leave. I don't know when he'll come back." He groaned. "Oh god, I really do sound completely crazy."

"If you had to," interjected his father, "decide which one of the two was the mistake you made, what would you say?"

It was like a hit to the gut. "I feel horrible about saying that," Chris said. "But marrying Elsa was a mistake. I will never say having India was a mistake, I love her too much. But I shouldn't have married Elsa. Not like that. Not so fast." He took a deep breath and went for broke. "Not as a replacement for the person I really wanted to be with but couldn't." He gagged. "And now I'm feeling sick."

"Good. You should feel bad," his father said. "This is a huge thing you did, to both of them. Letting things with Elsa go so far. Giving in to this now of all times, now that you have a child to care for. And now pulling someone else into this who seems to have more sense about what you're doing than you do."

"I know." In a strange way, it felt good to have it all laid out like this. He had screwed up. He kept hurting the people he loved most in the world. "I know I've made mistakes. I am still making them. I'm trying to take responsibility for them but it's really hard to know where to start. I should have known I was in love with him all those years ago and acted on it, but he wasn't ready for it so I let it go."

"And now he's ready for a relationship with you?" his mother asked.

Chris laughed. Even that sounded a bit crazy. "Not sure about ready, really. I think we're both just been worn down by trying to live without each other," he said. "Just desperate to stop pretending this isn't what we want."

It felt like a broken bone snapped back into place. It really hurt as the edges rubbed against each other, but now that it was set, it suddenly made sense, and the pain became manageable. It would take time to heal completely, but at least the pain wasn't excruciating any more. That had been what he had needed, just that change of perspective.

"And I'm so desperate not to lose him again that I want too much, too fast, and everything at once and now I'm afraid I'm going to drive him away, too." He blew out a breath. "I'm sorry, this must be so hard to hear and so hard to accept," he said.

"It seems to me," said his mother slowly, as if she was still thinking about it while she spoke, "that this new relationship of yours..."

"Oh god, relationship." Chris moaned. "I don't even know if it is one yet."

"And I think that's the problem because you sound like you really love this man... and have been for a while. Maybe longer than you've loved Elsa."

"Yes." His chest contracted painfully. He could hear how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Chris, we didn't raise you to be unfaithful," his father said.

"I know." He felt like he wanted to just collapse into himself.

"So if you are now, there must be a really good reason."

"Oh god, Dad." His parents' faith in him humbled him.

"I think you're really desperately afraid of losing him again," his mother said. "Now that you've finally found each other. And that's why you're so obsessed with him, and have no mind for the family you already have. I don't think you're a bad person. You wouldn't be the first man to discover he's gay and question his life."

"I don't even know if I am," Chris said. "I don't _feel_ gay. I just want to be with this one person."

There was a moment of quiet on the other end, during which Chris' desperation about Tom just leaving this morning, and him being alone in his flat, spiked once more. He checked the time, it was just past seven. If Tom had left just before six, he should be home soon. Chris decided if he wasn't by 7.30, he would try to call him and risk being perceived as overly attached. He just had to know Tom was okay. He had to know they were okay. Everything else was secondary and could be fixed later.

"Chris," his mother said gently, "can we for one moment please assume that you've already told us it's Tom? I promise we won't tell him."

Chris groaned. "Mo-om."

His father pitched in. "We're just wondering if it is the same man who announced in every interview after _Thor_ that he loved you, and you loved him. I very clearly remember calling you several times about this because neighbors would point it out to me time and again." He cleared his throat. "Actually trying to give you a chance to come out to me if you wanted to."

Chris started to laugh.

"Sweetie, you were over the moon when you met him on _Thor_ ," said his mother. "I remember you calling me every other day and telling me what a wonderful actor he was, and how cool, and how much he knew, and how much fun it was to be around him. Every talk we had while you were working on that movie was about Tom."

"And what you've told us so far would fit," his father said. "But I respect you wanting to keep his privacy. I'm sure you have your reasons."

"I do." He couldn't bring himself to just acknowledge what they already knew. "Doesn't it bother you that I'm in love with a man, dad?"

"I had a few years to get used to the idea, on and off," his father said. "We were a little puzzled when you brought home Elsa, but no, it's not a surprise. I don't think any less of you, Chris."

"Thank you." He blew out a breath. "Man, when you talk about it like this, it sounds as if falling in love with Elsa was the odd thing to do, not what I'm doing right now."

"Sometimes an outside perspective helps," his father said. "It doesn't mean you didn't screw up."

Chris chuckled. "Right. Thank you for that, dad. I don't think I could forget that for a second."

There was a sound from outside suddenly, hard to discern at first, but then it became clear that it was steps on the house stairs. His heart started pounding, and it didn't get better when he heard a key in the front door lock.

"Are you having a better idea of where to start now?" asked his dad.

"I... um... will you hold for a moment? I think he's coming home." The front door opened and closed, and he heard the keys chiming in the little bowl on the shoe rack.

"Tell him we said hi," said his mother cheekily.

"Oh yeah, sure, mom." Chris had to laugh.

"Tell him it's okay and we understand and don't blame him."

"Oh my god, mom, you're killing me! I'm putting you on hold now. Be right back." He punched the mute button, the last thing he heard being his mother's pearly laugh. He knew that the moment Tom would step in and they heard his voice, their suspicions would be validated, and he didn't want to out Tom before he was ready. He'd done enough to push him into this.

The living room door opened and Tom appeared in it. He looked rained-on, sweaty and disheveled, in short, absolutely adorable. "Chris?" he asked.

"I'm up here," Chris said, quickly descending the stairs, phone in hand.

"What were you doing up there?"

"Um... talking to my parents. Still am, actually, just putting them on hold to see if you're all right." Chris said. After the night they had had, it was striking how vulnerable and awkward he suddenly felt. "Listen, Tom, I'm... I'm sorry I called them. I was so worried about you just disappearing, I didn't know what to do."

"I left a note in the kitchen," Tom said.

"I know, I... I just didn't know if we were okay. After last night, I mean."

"Why?"

"Because I pushed you again," Chris said. "Because I cried on you for half an hour. Because I asked you to push your boundaries again when you weren't ready and I'm sorry."

He must have said something right as Tom's stance visibly relaxed and he smiled. "I'm sorry if I worried you. I just needed to get out of the house for a moment and get my head free. It's all a bit much at the moment, and it keeps piling on."

"Yeah. I'm... I'm really sorry, Tom."

Tom nodded towards the phone. "Will you tell them I'm all right, then?"

"What? Oh." Chris blushed. "Oh... I'm... Ungh, I'm so sorry, I think I'm doing everything wrong right now."

"I can't imagine you're doing as much wrong as you're sorry for right now," Tom said, a comical expression on his face.

"Eh... heh heh heh, maybe not." He just couldn't help it any more. Still standing on the last step, he leaned forward and kissed Tom, incredibly relieved when he kissed him back, and his arms just wrapped around him. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah." Tom smiled and pulled him closer. "We're okay. I'm sorry I just walked out on you."

"I'm sorry I keep piling it on."

"I think _we_ are piling it on," Tom said. "It's not just you."

They just stood for a moment, basking in each other's presence.

"Listen," Chris said. "I promised myself I would never keep anything from you any more, so – I called my Dad and came out to him and just told him everything. I didn't tell them it's you, but I just had to talk to someone about it all. It's just all so complicated and I really needed some advice about... what to do. About you, and about Elsa, and.. just about everything. I was so worried where you'd gone and if we were still okay, I just... just couldn't face it alone."

"What did you tell them when you came to the point who you are all doing it with?" Tom asked. His hands were resting on Chris' hip, cool, but so pleasant.

"Just that I couldn't say, that I wanted to keep your privacy because I didn't know if you were okay with them knowing." The small smile blooming on Tom's lips encouraged him. "Actually, my dad told me he was waiting for me to come out to him years ago."

"I love you," Tom said, kissing him lightly. "Even though you keep piling it on."

"I know, right? I'm horrible. I just want everything and everything at once." He actually felt a little shy. "Especially when it comes to you. I'm sorry."

"Who did he want you to come out to over?" Tom probed.

_Shit._ "You," Chris confessed meekly. "So did my mom."

He felt the laughter bubbling up in Tom in his belly, first, before it actually reached his lips.

"I know. That was my reaction, too."

"Everyone," Tom said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, still chuckling. " _Everyone_ we told so far has told us they already knew." He blew out a breath. "Are they still on the phone?"

"Yes. I put them on hold, I didn't want them to hear your voice or they'd know for sure."

"Do they suspect?"

"Of course." Chris groaned, then took heart. "They told me they respect me keeping your privacy but to tell you hi anyway." He sighed. "And to tell you it's okay and they're not upset with you."

"Chris, Chris, Chris. I can't leave you alone for an hour and you're into the next thing."

"I know! I'm sorry. I know I'm doing everything wrong at the moment."

He had no idea how it happened, but one moment, they were standing there at the foot of the stairs, and the next, Tom was walking away with his phone in his hands and plopped down on his sofa, unmuting the call.

"Fiona? Rick? Hi. It's Tom."

Chris didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

"It's nice to hear you, too." Tom craned his head. "Yes, he's still here, silently freaking out."

Chris made a killing motion with his hands, and Tom laughed and waved him closer.

"Come here, they want to talk to both of us."

Chris meekly padded over, and then simply plopped down beside Tom and found himself immediately enveloped in his arm. Tom smelled of rain, fresh air and sweat, it was a wonderfully heady combination. Chris cuddled closer, basking in Tom's arm contracting around him and his hand starting to caress his shoulder. 

He saw Tom put the phone on speaker as he put it between them and said to his parents: "I guess the cat has let himself out of the bag."

"He didn't tell us, Tom, truly," said his mother. "He was very concerned with keeping your privacy."

"I appreciate that," said Tom. "But I'm getting a little tired of hiding and it seems unfair. It's not like it was just Chris' idea and I had nothing to do with it."

"We like to hear that," said Chris' father, while Chris was still trying to reassemble his wits. "It sounds like you're committed to this."

Tom looked at him, the expression of quizzical fondness on his face causing Chris' stomach to flip. 

"I am," Tom said. "I'm in, for better or for worse."

 

  
  



	19. Take Me Home

Chris stared at him, then reached out to the phone, turned the speaker off and said: "Mom, Dad – I think I need a moment alone with Tom."

"Um, yes, of course." His father said.

"Chris, if you need us, you know where to find us," said his mother.

Chris exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm truly sorry I'm such trouble right now," he said. He felt Tom's hand rub his shoulder and when he looked up, Tom was looking at him with those compassionate sea blue eyes.

"It looks like you're not alone with it any more," said his mother delicately. "Talk to Tom. We'll still be here when the dust settles. We're thinking of you."

"I really don't deserve you guys, I really don't." Chris sighed. "Oh, could you possibly keep this to yourselves for a little longer, until I've figured out a few things?"

"Sure. Let us know when that changes because," he heard his mom sigh, "we all know Liam is dying for something to tease you with."

That made even him laugh. "That's for sure. I'll never hear the end of it. Thanks, you two. I really appreciate it." He started to feel a little less like a panicked teenager in need of parental advice and more like the almost-thirty-year-old that he was. "Talk to you soon?"

"Sure. Give our best to Tom."

"I will. Bye."

"Goodbye, Chris."

Even when he heard the disconnect tone, he was reluctant to take the phone off his ear and finally break the connection. But he did, carefully turning off the phone and putting it on the table. He felt dazed, his head was spinning.

"Are you all right?" Tom asked.

Chris blinked. He took a deep breath, then stopped, and instead of speaking, exhaled again. He drew up his legs, turning out of Tom's embrace and for a moment, just sat there, his face buried in his hands. All the tension, the fear, the worry about Tom not coming home or even worse, breaking up with him again, just came rushing back and threatened to overwhelm him.

"Chris...?" He felt Tom touching his knee.

He couldn't help it. "God, Tom, you can't keep doing this." He looked up, and saw nothing but surprise in Tom's face.

"What?"

"God knows I love you more than I should but if you keep running out on me when things get deep, I swear, I don't know how much longer I can take it!" He felt real anger bubble up, anger born out of insecurity and fear and the ball of feelings he harbored for this man sitting in front of him that he had absolutely no control over.

Tom blinked.

"Tom, you can't just..." He blew out a breath. "After everything that happened last night, what do you think I was thinking when you'd just walked out without telling me?"

It was the first sign of doubt or insecurity he saw on Tom's face this morning. "Um..."

"I thought I'd finally scared you off, okay?" It hurt even thinking about it. His throat closed and he had to swallow, hard, trying to force the tears down that were trying to undo him.

"Chris, no."

"I told you how much you scared me out on that terrace, Tom! This was just the same! I can't keep doing this!"

"No. No. Chris, stop. Stop." Tom caught his flailing hands. When he had Chris' attention, he kissed his knuckles, making eye contact. The action was so in counterpoint to Chris' agitation that he actually calmed down enough to listen. "I swear I'm here now, Chris. I _swear_."

Chris looked at him, exasperated. "What _were_ you thinking?"

"You are right, it was all a bit much, okay?" Tom said bluntly. "I couldn't sleep any more, and I didn't want to wake you because... because we both know you'd have charmed me back into your arms, and I really... really needed a moment to myself to make a bit of sense of what we've been doing."

Chris had to grudgingly admit that he most likely would have guilted Tom back into bed.

"When I go out running it's not a comment on anyone or anyone's behavior, it's just how I work through my stuff. You can't go into a panic each time it happens because... because it's going to happen every now and then." He pressed Chris' hands. "Okay? Chris?"

"You scared me to pieces."

"I know that now and I'm sorry. Should I wake you and tell you next time?"

"Hmpf." Chris wasn't yet ready to deal reasonably with the situation, or worse, find practical solutions. "I was just really looking forward to a morning cuddle," he pouted, instead, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Chris." Tom drew him into an embrace. Chris made a token effort to resist, just to make the point that he was not happy yet, but then Tom's long legs wrapped around his back and he pulled him close, and Chris' body betrayed him, melting into Tom's after all, allowing Tom to hold him. Tom kissed his temple and rubbed Chris' back soothingly. "I promise I'm usually a splendid lier-inner on weekends and morning cuddles will be guaranteed."

"Hm." Chris buried his face against Tom's shoulder, inhaling the heady scent of fresh air, rain and Tom's sweat. His closeness was already starting to calm his nerves, making him start to believe that he was actually here.

"My sweet Chris," Tom murmured fondly, running his hands over his hair. "I love you so much."

"I'm just at the end of my rope," Chris murmured into his shoulder. "I'm really done in. I just can't take any more."

"I know." A gentle kiss was placed on Chris' neck. "Like I said, we keep piling it on and it's all a bit much." Tom drew back and looked at him. "But we're dealing with it differently – I do it on my own, and you call your parents, so... same thing, different solutions."

"You're right." Then he finally fully realized what he'd done and he blinked. "Oh my god. I can't out us each time I'm upset."

Tom laughed. "I find it adorable that you get on that well with your parents."

"Hell, _you_ can't out us each time I'm upset." Chris' eyes were wide.

Tom laughed even louder. "Well, I did it for you, okay? I wanted to show you you're not in this alone. Not anymore."

"You're an idiot." Chris kissed him, his heart in his throat. "My idiot."

"You bet." Tom's hands plucked lightly at the edges of Chris' shirt and then found their way under it, causing shivers to run up and down Chris' spine. "Do you honestly think I could leave this?" he asked, his voice a little rough. "Leave you?" His eyes were shining. "Chris, really?"

"I hope not."

"No. And I won't. Okay? I meant what I just said to your parents. I'm in. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." The expression in his eyes was so gentle. "I'm yours, Chris."

Chris pressed his lips together, unable to properly process Tom's words, and what they might mean. "My head tells me I should be so excited but I'm just... just exhausted."

"I know." Tom kissed him lightly, then untangled from him and got up. "Let me take you to bed."

Chris blinked at him. Did he seriously want to make love right now?

"Morning cuddle, late edition," Tom said, instead. "After all this upset, I think we earned it, don't you?" He held out a hand to Chris. 

"Yes." Chris was sure he could do that. "Okay."

And he put his hand in Tom's.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Tom took him to his bedroom and helped Chris to get out of his clothes. Chris' body still hummed with tension and insecurity, so Tom made sure to let him know how much he was loved and appreciated. His sole focus was Chris, unwinding him from this tight wrap of worry and fear, putting aside his own insecurities to make Chris feel that he was safe and not alone.

If there was one thing that had become abundantly clear to him on his run, it was that if he would be involved with Chris for a longer time, he'd have to adjust his perception of what "a man" does in a relationship, and quickly. If two men were in a relationship together, the convenient excuse of being soft and needy because there was a woman involved, and obviously, she wanted you to do these things, just flew out the window. Either he'd have to quickly increase his behavioral repertoire to include those behaviors _because he wanted them in his life_ , or his relationship with Chris would hit the wall rather sooner than later.

He didn't mind at all being a caring partner and a safe listener. It was just so strange to have _a man_ come undone in his arms. All those ideas of what a man did, and especially, how a man behaved in the presence of another man, had to be reappraised. And while Chris didn't seem to have a problem with adjusting to this at all, Tom realized that he'd become so set in what he deemed proper and right that he now really had to work to undo patterns that had been drilled into him since childhood.

If he wanted to make sure he was a good partner for Chris in the interim – and god, did he want to be that, if nothing else! - he was now having to basically strip himself bare of everything he thought he "knew", of every behavior he had so far used to try and protect himself from hurt, because right now, all those defense mechanisms hurt him, and hurt Chris, and hurt his chances of being with this man, and he could not allow that. He could feel his soul shaking with fear, but by god, he would get this right, because Chris was worth it. Being with Chris was worth it. He'd get this right if it was the last thing he would do.

So he whispered "I love you." as he unbuttoned Chris' cardigan and pushed it off his arms. "Please believe that, if you don't believe anything else I say right now."

Chris opened the zipper on his running shirt, mimicking Tom's actions.

"I want to believe you," Chris said. His eyes were so blue. Tom leaned forward and kissed him, needing to feel the softness of those perfect lips on his own, relieved when Chris' mouth opened to him and he could taste him on his tongue.

"I need you so much," Tom whispered. "I just can't let you go again, and if you don't believe me now, I'll just have to prove it to you." He shivered. He'd never told anyone that he needed them. People were unreliable and sent him away when he needed them, then praised him for being self-sufficient. Being needy was not desirable. Being able to do for yourself was. He had to dig deep to even realize that what he was feeling towards Chris was need, wanting to be close, wanting to not have to let go again.

"It scares me how much I need you," Chris said. His voice was so rough it was hardly discernible.

"I'm scared, too." Tom raised his arms to let Chris pull off his shirt. "I don't know how I made it all those years without you and now that you're there it's... it just blows me away. I'm so afraid I'm going to lose you again." He was walking out on very thin emotional ice now. The tiniest quip on Chris' part would make it break. His whole being quivered in anticipation of the blow that never came.

"Me, too," Chris said. "I'm absolutely terrified you could walk out on me." They looked at each other. "Oh, wow."

"I know." Tom kissed him again, the softest, most appreciative kiss he could muster. His skin brushed against Chris' as he let his hand sink into his hair at the back of his head. Chris' arms slid around him, thumbs softly brushing over his skin, and they breathed into each other, caught in this one, perfect moment of being together. "I'm here to stay, Chris. I promise I'm not going anywhere. I need you too much. I love you too much to let you go." It was like walking out onto a tightrope, time and again. If he would look down, he'd fall. "I want you too much."

"You have no idea what you're saying," Chris said.

"I think I do." Tom smiled at him. "I think I have a pretty good idea of what I'm getting myself into, and I want it like I've never wanted anything in my life before. I know it's going to be rough, having to deal with everyone's reactions, and it's not all going to be good, but this, my love..." His voice broke and he needed a moment to regain it. "This is perfect. We are perfect."

For once Chris didn't argue with him, which Tom took as encouragement.

"I love you," he said, kissing him. "And I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you," Chris said. He hesitated for a moment, then seemed to make a decision to just plunge ahead. "It's like I can't think of anything else any more. All of me goes _Tom Tom Tom Tom_ ever since last night and I just can't turn it off."

"Don't turn it off, please." Tom's heart was so full. He'd fought so hard against feeling like this, been so afraid to give in. He didn't know if he was capable of feeling like this ever again once the realities and backlashes would start but right now, right here, the only way he could reach Chris was by being completely and utterly truthful. So he was. "Love me, then" he dared. His heart was pounding in his ears and at the same time, he felt like he'd never been so calm.

His reward was the most beatific smile spreading on Chris' face. The smile made the laugh lines by his eyes crinkle and caused an adorable crease on his nose.

"Do you believe me now?" Tom asked, smiling back. "I'm here to stay. I'm not going anywhere, I don't care what they throw at us, because you and me, we are perfect together."

"Perfect," Chris murmured, drawing him into a kiss. "You definitely are perfect."

Tom chuckled, enjoying the feeling of Chris holding him with his broad hands spread on his back, pressing him against his well-muscled torso. Chris' tongue in his mouth was gentle but insistent, and he opened to him, just letting him explore to his heart's content.

"I love you," Chris said. One of his hands slipped around to Tom's front and ran appreciatively over his pecs and shoulder. "I really want to be with you."

"Let's do that, then." Tom exhaled with relief. "Let me take you to bed, Chris."

"Can we just sleep a little?" Chris' eyes were child-like.

"Of course." Tom kissed his forehead. "I think I could use a rest after all that upheaval." His hands slipped to Chris' front and unhooked his belt, then opened his jeans. It was still a very arousing thing to do, but he tried to be as matter-of-factly about it as he possibly could. He pushed jeans and underwear over Chris' hips and down his thighs, and was relieved when they fell down to his ankles by themselves. He didn't know what he would do if he was suddenly face-to-face with Chris half-interested cock.

As it was, his own arousal was clearly evident, and he didn't want Chris to think he expected him to do anything about it. "Get in," he suggested towards the bed. "I'll be right behind you."

To his relief – and a smidgen of disappointment if he was honest – Chris did just that, getting rid of his socks and sliding under the covers. Tom made quick work of his own running outfit, underwear and socks, then followed. He gestured Chris to lie on his side, then spooned behind him, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Can you hold me a little tighter?" Chris requested.

Tom's heart swelled, but he did as asked, wrapping Chris securely in his arms and slipped a leg over his, holding him fast. "Better?"

Chris took his hand and tucked it over his heart. "Yes." He kissed the hand in question and smiled. "I love that you're as tall as I am. Feels like I haven't had a proper cuddle in years."

Tom chuckled softly. "Anytime you want it, just breathe the word."

"Okay." Contentedly, Chris snuggled deeper into Tom's embrace, and his eyes closed.

Tom softly kissed his neck. He was painfully hard but tried to keep his cock away from Chris, wanting him to feel that it was completely all right not to have sex.

_Tom, you're fucking gay and you know it_ , he thought, and almost laughed. _Nothing's ever turned you on like this man, you've never come so hard, have never wanted someone so much._

"I love you," he whispered.

Chris smiled. "Love you, too."

"Sleep well. I'll still be here when you wake up." He was all settled to use the time to just appreciate having Chris in his arms, and mulling on what was happening to and with them, but he soon drifted off, as well.


	20. Yours and Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that is so not safe for work, school, or any other public place. You've been warned.

When he woke up, Chris had turned in his arms and was now half-draped over him, his head under Tom's chin. Tom trailed a lazy hand over Chris' well-muscled back, and Chris mewled and snuggled closer.

"You're such a huge cuddle hound," Tom murmured fondly, placing a soft kiss on the blond head just under his chin.

He could feel Chris smiling, his beard scratching against Tom's skin. "Those pesky internet rumors," he mumbled. "Don't believe everything you read."

"Uh-huh." Tom let a hand run through Chris' hair, remembering that his girlfriends had unequivocally found it soothing. Time to test whether that was something Chris would enjoy, as well.

Chris' arms contracted around Tom and he started to hum with pleasure. Yep. Another thing crossed off the list.

"Now I get why you were so disappointed not to get your morning cuddle," Tom teased, laughter in his voice.

Chris looked up, having that smile on his face that Tom had once titulated as making everything better. "If you let me lie on you all day, I will," he threatened playfully.

"All bone and angles," Tom said. "Come up and kiss me."

Chris' smile grew wider and he levered up, coming to lie on top of Tom. "Tom..." he said, his brow contracting as his hips pressed into him. "What's that?"

"Sorry," Tom said. "Can't help it when you're around." He blinked as his hands slid down Chris' back to his ass and he cupped the muscle, not quite sure whether his arousal was welcome or not.

Chris grinned. "Tom," he said. "Are you horny for me?"

"Fuck you," Tom said fondly, and then, "Yes. What of it?"

Chris waggled his brows. "Gotta do something about it?"

"Done cuddling, huh?" Tom laughed, but the flame of arousal in his belly flared and the end of his chuckle dried in his throat. "Chris."

"That looks like you are." Chris' pressed against him and kissed him. Tom moaned and arched up against Chris, not just because he knew it turned Chris on, but also because he realized he really enjoyed doing it.

"Chris I'm going to be done in five seconds if you keep that up."

"Hm, do I turn you on that much?" Chris murmured, doing nothing to dispel the sexual tension between them.

"More," Tom breathed. He could feel Chris getting hard. "God, I want you to fuck me, Chris."

"Oooooh." Chris readjusted his hips, pressing their cocks flush together.

"Hard," Tom moaned. "Take me hard."

"Fuck." Now Chris had to take a moment, breathing heavily through his arousal, his forehead against Tom's shoulder.

Tom let his hands roam over Chris' shoulders and arms, not even trying to hold back. He loved this man, loved how strong he was, how hard his muscles felt under his fingertips, the way they shifted and bulged under his hands. "I want to feel you," he said, his arousal getting the better of him, "come all over me, Chris."

Chris shifted downwards and glared at Tom. "You'll have that sooner than you might like," he growled. "Fuck, Tom, you can't say stuff like that."

"Why not?" Tom grabbed Chris' ass and pulled it closer, feeling the tip of his cock hit his balls. "I love you, I love your body, I want you to have me, hard."

Chris' eyes bore into him. "You did a bit more this morning than just run," he accused him. "Good lord, is that what I'm going to have to live with?"

"Me, horny for you every morning? Probably," Tom said lazily. "You're just too fucking hot for me not to be."

Chris growled deep in his throat. "Getting used to this gay thing, huh?" he asked.

"If it means waking up with this every morning I seriously don't care what anyone calls me," Tom said. "They're all just jealous anyway, as I'm not going to share."

Chris laughed.

"Now..." Tom flipped them over and brushed his whole body against Chris. "Are we talking or making love?"

"How would you like me to have you?" Chris asked, a gentle smile playing on his lips. When Tom dipped his head and whispered in his ear, his eyes grew wide. "Holy shit." There was a new respect in his eyes. "We'll need lube," he pointed out. "We don't have any."

"I bought some this morning," Tom said.

Chris' brows shot up. "When?" He shook his head. "Did anyone see you?"

Tom shrugged. "24-hour-Boots, Sunday at 6:45, it's just you and the cashier," he said.

"And I was sitting here thinking you'd abandoned me."

Tom laughed. "While I was out buying playthings for us, yeah."

Chris pushed up on his elbows. "Where is it?"

"On the shoe rack by the door," Tom said. "Woah."

Chris had bucked him off and was out the door in a second. Tom turned onto his stomach and laughed. "I guess that means we're going to be okay?" he called after Chris.

When Chris strode back in a moment later, a plastic bag hanging from his hand, his eyebrows had crawled up nearly into his hairline. "Did you leave anything in the shop?" he asked. He upended the bag onto the bed, then joined Tom on it, sitting cross legged while appreciating the pile of things Tom had bought. "Good gracious." He gave Tom's ass a good smack of appreciation.

Tom laughed. "Happy?" he asked. He leaned over Chris' thigh, his hand curled around his knee as they both surveyed Tom's booty. "I thought I'd just bring one of each."

"Lube... lube... more lube... hm, body wash?" He raised a brow at Tom.

"I thought I'd like the smell on you," Tom said.

"Uh-huh." Chris uncapped it and took a sniff. "Okaaay," he said, eying Tom, "That's interesting."

Tom decided to come clean. "I want you to smell like you're mine," he said unapologetically.

"Oh-hoh." Chris shook his head, but didn't protest, even not when he saw that Tom had bought lotion of the same scent. "Looks like you'll have to put that on me later," he said, rubbing Tom's back between his shoulder blades.

Tom smiled at him. "Uh-huh." He kissed the inside of Chris' knee.

"Okay, more lube... Jesus, how many different brands are there?"

"Just a few, but I thought I'd bring a few scents to see which ones we like."

"You thought." Chris uncapped a bottle of lube, sniffed it and squirted a good amount on the fingers of his right hand.

Tom swallowed, shivering in anticipation.

"We'll have to see," Chris murmured, guiding Tom's chin upwards by his left hand, "how well it'll mix with the scent of my come."

Tom moaned, straining upwards to meet Chris' lips, gasping into the kiss when Chris fingers slid between his legs, starting to prepare him for the fucking he had requested. For a few moments, there was nothing but Chris' fingers rubbing over his perineum, tracing his crack, going deep and touching his balls while his tongue was probing his mouth. When all the lube was spent, Chris grabbed his ass cheek and massaged it, pressing Tom's cock deliciously into the mattress.

"I'm so ready for you," Tom croaked.

"We weren't done with surveying your shopping," Chris said. He appeared calm, but his cock was straining against his stomach, red, engorged and rock hard.

"Can I lube you up?" Tom asked. He had a hard time not just leaning forward and licking it.

"You don't get to do anything but take me," Chris said gently. "That's what you wanted, right?"

Tom swallowed, his throat dry. He just nodded. Chris' fingers ran through his short hair, and down his neck.

"Oh, Tom," Chris sighed.

"Hm?" Tom looked up at him, smiling.

"I thought it couldn't get any better." He leaned down and kissed Tom softly, then his hand grabbed his neck more tightly and he probed him deeply, his strength clearly evident. Tom strained into it, willing him to give him more. "Then this happens."

"I realized last night," Tom rasped, now so aroused he was afraid he'd come before Chris was anywhere near him, "That I kinda like it when you bend me to your lust." His heart pounded in his chest. "And I really dig it when you come all over me."

"Ooooh." Chris' eyes closed and he bit his lower lip. "Fuck, Tom."

Tom placed a gentle kiss on Chris' left palm, then took the tube of lube and squirted a good dollop into it. "Please," he begged.

Chris was panting under his breath, his eyes hooded as he regarded Tom. "Eyes on the shopping," he rasped. "Tell me what else you bought."

"You can't do this," Tom complained. He was dying to see Chris lube himself up.

"Oh yes I can." His right hand wandered down Tom's back again and sank between his legs. "Tighten up, love."

"Oh, God." Tom strained into the strong hand probing him.

"Talk to me."

"Fuck, I... I bought condoms." He so wanted to let his eyes wander to his left. From the corner of his eyes he could just about observe the rhythmic movement of Chris stroking himself.

"What kind?" Chris asked, his voice sounding a little shaky.

"Super strength, XXL," Tom said. "Since you said... oh god..." He moaned.

Chris smacked his ass. "Keep talking, Tom."

"…since you begged me yesterday to fuck you some day... not sure when that day is going to be... just wanted to be prepared."

"Will you ever let me have you that way?" Chris asked. He was shifting to straddle Tom's legs, his mouth very close to Tom's ear. "Or what is that other packet for?"

"Oh god... I don't know... I'm not sure... Chris, I can't think like this." He felt Chris' cock against his crack and he knew that his own cock started leaking.

"I wonder why." Chris kissed his spine. "Tell me why you brought the other package, then. The one," he chuckled, "In kids size."

"I don't know... just... be prepared for anything... Chris... fuck.. it's not kids size, you have a nice cock, dammit, stop it."

Chris stopped.

"Not that, oh god, you're killing me." Tom strained upwards, against this lover. Chris used the movement to slide a hand under Tom's pelvis, tilting it into a better position for him. Tom's cock brushed against the back of his hand, but he didn't do anything about it, just held him like that, his hand warm and strong against Tom's skin. Tom whined with frustration, lifting his ass into a better position, knowing that he was begging for it like a cheap whore and not caring at all.

Chris held him like that, his cock moving in slight increments along the top of his crack, his left hand stroking his back, sliding around to his front, tracing his skin, leaving a trail of shivers and a lot of sexual frustration in his wake.

Chris played him like an instrument, and Tom loved it. He hated him, too, for making him wait, for playing him like that, and then he loved him for it again. His emotions were playing havoc with him, all in anticipation of this, of this situation he'd begged to have. His instincts told him that if he begged Chris to fuck him now, he'd have to wait for it even longer. If he'd press up against him, he'd get the same result. He needed it so badly he was nearly crawling out of his skin, but trying to talk or cajole Chris into finally taking him would result in Chris playing more cat-and-mouse with him.

He chose the other route. Shifting forward, he pressed himself against the mattress, rubbing his cock against it. If Chris wouldn't get him off, he would do it himself.

"Oooooh no, love, not like that." Chris' hand against his pelvis shifted, now covering his cock lightly, pressing against his stomach. Just a moment later, Tom finally felt Chris' cock slip between his legs.

They both moaned deeply in their chests, and Tom kept struggling, kept pretending he wanted to crawl out of the embrace, and Chris held him tighter, lifting his ass up for a better angle, moving into him. "Fuck, Tom," Chris exhaled. "Hold still for a second." They both panted as if they'd run a marathon. Chris started moving again, trying out different angles. "Dammit," he finally swore. "I think I've used too much lube. I'm as slippery as an eel."

Tom started giggling and Chris gave him a little swat on the ass again. "Not everyone has your size," he complained. "I need a bit of traction or I'm going to slip out of you all the time."

Tom realized it was a real predicament and turned his head around. "It's not the size, it's the technique," he said gently. "Stop beating yourself over the head." He reached for one of the wash cloths by the bed and flung it at Chris. "Here," he said. "I'd offer to lick it off, but...."

"Oh no no no no no," Chris said, giving him a stern look. "I know you. It's going to turn into suck it off."

"You got that right." Tom winked at him, then stretched for the pile of promiscuous shopping goods that were still piling on the bed and picked up the condoms he'd bought for Chris. "How about lube and this?" he asked.

"Last thing I remember was someone begging for me to come all over him," Chris said. "Wouldn't want that to go to waste."

Tom gasped when Chris simply grabbed him again, sliding his now dried-off cock between his legs. 

"Ass up," he groaned. His hand ran down Tom's back and pressed his shoulders into the mattress. He jerked against Tom, the tip of his cock hitting Tom's balls, then readjusting again and sliding along the underside. "Fuck, that feels really good."

Tom was too incoherent to answer, too busy to present himself to Chris. He'd never been in this position, never been the one to be taken like that, knowing that if Chris wanted, he could actually _make him_ take him like that. The higher he lifted his ass, the shorter was the way Chris' cock had to travel to be between his legs, and it became unlikely for him to slip anywhere. He felt Chris' cock tug at the line tracing the middle of his ball sack and groaned at how absolutely fantastic that felt. And then Chris' hand pressed harder against his stomach, providing a pouch for his own cock.

"Lube again," Chris groaned, letting Tom's cock go and simply presenting his hand. Tom could hardly think much less grasp anything, but he did manage to squirt some on Chris' palm and a moment later, congratulated himself for managing that as Chris' hand on his stomach formed a wet, warm, tight restriction for himself to slide in and out of.

Chris' movements came faster, moving into him with purpose.

"Ha... harder..." Tom gasped. "Make me feel you... please... Chris..."

"Fuck, Tom..." Chris groaned.

"Remember, you... you can't break me..." Tom breathed.

"Tom..." Chris slid his hand around his torso and pressed up, making him kneel. "Don't try so hard," he said, his voice hot and wet against his ear.

"I just... don't hold back, please."

Chris pressed his forehead against his shoulder. "We can talk about fucking as much as you like but I'm never not going to make love to you," he said. His cock was still sliding between Tom's legs, now running along the underside of his ass, riding in his crack like a groove. "You are so fucking hot," he groaned. He reached down to spread Tom's cheeks a little more, making Tom cry out at the sensation of his hard, hot cock pushing into him.

Tom felt his thighs tremble, holding that position was a strain. Fortunately, Chris also noticed. "Hold on to that headboard," he said.

They got temporarily separated as they both scooted forward, but the sensation of Chris taking him like that all over again was worth it.

"You like that?" Of course Chris noticed.

"Uh-huh." Tom bit his lower lip, straining against Chris as he kept sliding in and out of him, stimulating all the right bits. He was starting to get a little dry, but it meant more friction and more sensation, and he relished it.

"Kiss me," Chris breathed, making him turn his head. Their lips met and they kissed deeply, gentle counterpoint to how wantonly Chris kept moving into him, and then his hand was stroking Tom's cock.

"Oh my god." Tom's knees started to go weak.

"This what you wanted," Chris moaned. "Is this what you wanted, Tom?"

"No." He pushed back, angling his pelvis up and cried out when Chris thrust into him. "Better. So much better."

"Okay, I'm... I'm losing control here," Chris moaned. He thrust again, harder, his hips jerking into Tom.

"Yes," Tom sighed. "Please."

Chris grasped the headboard with one hand, holding Tom painfully close with the other and kept thrusting, stopping, pulling out, then fucking right back into him. His forehead came to rest against Tom's neck as his hips snapped forward, over and over again and he groaned with each thrust.

"Oh god, that feels so good," Tom groaned. "Please don't stop, Chris, please, don't stop." The amount of power behind each of Chris' movements was incredible. What Tom really wanted was for Chris to bend him over the headboard and just fuck him into the next millennium, but he knew that the current position didn't allow that. All he could do was move back into him after each thrust, present his ass and hope it turned Chris on enough to want to take him again and again. Chris' hand over his cock had long since stopped stroking him but was just holding him in place almost painfully, and he felt Chris' lips move along the nape of his neck, building the pressure inside of him to almost unbearable heights. "Chris, I'm going to come... oh god..." He groaned, his head falling forward as his hips kept moving back into Chris' cock, then into his hand as he thrust, back into Chris' cock, taking him deeply, then into Chris' hand and finally, he just couldn't take it any more and came, his hot, sticky come quickly coating Chris' hand and overflowing onto his stomach.

Chris wasn't finished, he held him so tight that Tom thought his bones might break, and the last five, ten thrusts were so desperate that he knew Chris' hands would leave bruises. He relished it, and relished the way Chris' teeth buried into his shoulder as he came, hot semen pumping into him, coating the inside of his legs.

"Mooore..." he whimpered. "One more, Chris, please." He couldn't get enough of Chris coming undone between his legs, and only stopped begging when he felt Chris getting soft, panting against his back, obviously completely and utterly spent.

He didn't quite know what to do, both of them panting and delirious, Tom's legs shaking like he'd run a race. Chris was still holding on to him, his forehead pressed against Tom's neck, and then he felt Chris' lips trembling against his skin.

"Are you all right?" he asked, reaching around to trace Chris' thigh.

He felt Chris shaking his head. "Need a moment," he heard him, hardly discernible.

Tom just couldn't hold the position any more, he had to sit down. He found Chris on his knees behind him, a courtain of blond tresses hiding his face. When he lifted a hand to brush Chris' hair aside, the other man sank against him, resting his forehead against his shoulder, one hand on his thigh.

"It's okay," Tom said, kissing his hair. His own cock was still twitching and leaking and he reached down, squeezing the last drops of come out of it. "Oh, god." He found his hips moving into his own touch.

Chris' hand moved to catch his own and he entwined their fingers, resting them on Tom's thigh.

"I am so damn gay for you I think I need a new definition of gay," Chris finally said.

Tom chuckled. "Uh-huh. That's interesting, lover."

"I just don't want anyone else, ever." He kissed Tom's shoulder, making Tom shiver. "Just you."

"That's a good thing because I don't intend to share," Tom said firmly. "You're mine now."

"Sounds perfect." Chris finally lifted his head enough that Tom could see his eyes. They were deep, open, completely trusting. "Can we do this again?"

"Right now?" Tom smiled and kissed him gently. Chris immediately reciprocated, his hand brushing lightly against the side of his face. Tom felt his cock stir. "Cause it looks like my body's getting ready for another round."

"You're insatiable," Chris complained, but he was smiling widely.

"Only when it comes to you," Tom said. He shivered into Chris' hand brushing against his nipple. "Then I can't get enough."

"You really can't," Chris said, his eyes laced with wonder and surprise. "Look at you, dammit, Tom."

"I got to do a lot of thinking while I was out this morning," Tom said. "I do have the best ideas when I'm running."

"Obviously." Chris traced his fingers over Tom's erection, making him gasp. "Okay, let me clean you up; I'll be right back."

Before Tom could say anything, Chris had bounded off the bed and off into the bathroom. He heard water run, then Chris came back with a wet washcloth. "Washed my hand," he said, showing it off, then jumped on the bed, kneeling over Tom. "Sit back and relax."

Tom did just that, watching his lover brushing the cloth over his abdomen, and very gently cleaning his cock. When he wanted to slide it between his legs, he stopped him. "I want to feel you a little longer," he said.

Chris blushed and threw the washcloth aside. "I could just fuck you again," he offered.

Tom laughed and plopped onto his back. "Go for it," he said, spreading his arms. He found Chris stalking him like prey, and it made shivers run up and down his body. "Coming for me?" he asked.

Chris growled, pushing his face against Tom's neck, nibbling along it playfully. His hand closed around Tom's cock, causing him to nearly leap off the bed.

"Gently, tiger," he cautioned.

Chris let him go and lay down beside him, and Tom joined him. They were both just looking at each other, letting hands trace each other's bodies. There wasn't really anything to say; it was clear they were just giving each other breathers before they moved into the next round, but at least the edge had come off. Not for long, though. Tom soon found himself straining into Chris' touches again, arching into his lips sucking at his pebbled nipple, tugging at his hair when the pleasure became near unbearable.

"Can you top me this time, please?" Chris asked. "Not that I don't enjoy fucking you..."

"Yes." Tom kissed him deeply, brushing their hard cocks against each other. "Not sure how long I'm going to last, though, you're just too fucking delicious."

"Look who's talking." Chris moaned, straining against him. "Now, Tom?"

"I should just torture you the way you just tortured me," Tom threatened. "But I really don't want to."

"Hm, lucky me, then." Chris' fingers traced the back of Tom's thighs. "I can't believe you're still wet with my come."

"I like it." Behind Chris' head, Tom had grasped another bottle of lube, a different brand this time. "Open your hand. I would really like your hand on my cock."

Chris shivered, but did as he was bid. Tom also lubed up, and they lazily touched and stroked each other while kissing and pressing their bodies together. "Hm, this is nice," Chris purred.

"So gay," Tom said. "Nothing's gayer than really enjoying another man's cock."

"No argument from me," Chris said. "Though I've never wanted any other man's cock, just yours."

Tom smiled. "Do you really want me to fuck you with that?" he asked.

"Yes." Chris smiled right back. "I'll have to read up on how to do it safely, but yes."

"You're a little crazy, you know that?" Tom kissed his nose affectionately.

"Think I can't take you?" Chris raised a brow at him. "Challenge accepted."

Tom laughed. "It wasn't a challenge. Just tell me why."

"Um..." Chris thought. "Just something about being that vulnerable with you that does things to me," he said.

"Are you... are you disappointed when I don't want it in return?" Tom asked.

Chris shrugged. "What pleasure would it be knowing you don't enjoy it?" he said.

"It's just... just thinking about it makes me clench up," Tom confessed. "I'm sorry."

"Like I said, don't worry about it." Chris kissed him gently. "Not like we can't think of other fun stuff to do."

"It just seems to be the go-to gay thing to do," Tom said, finding some of his old insecurity flooding back.

"Seriously? I don't know." Chris shifted, bringing their cocks in contact, then taking over from Tom and letting both of their members slide through his hand. "It seems silly to me to limit oneself to the one practice that... ah... mimics straight... god... sex." He swallowed. "Like this really feels pretty good to me."

"Uh-huh."Tom pushed Chris to lie on his back, then climbed on top of him. He shivered, and drew the duvet around his shoulders, sending most of his playthings clattering to the ground. Bending over, he kissed Chris gently, then a little deeper, their cocks rubbing against each other as they moved. He kissed Chris' eyelids and his nose, then back to his mouth, then trailed kisses along his bearded jaw to his ears and down his neck, feeling Chris straining upwards against him. He grasped his hands and entwined their fingers, pinning them down beside Chris' head, then kissed and nipped along his clavicle, wantonly licking over his bulging shoulder muscles and down his bicep, sucking at the surprisingly soft skin. His hips started to move faster into Chris, rubbing over his cock, and he kissed him again, finding Chris open and soft and ready to receive him. "Hm, I so want to suck you off," he murmured. "Feel you come into my mouth."

Chris smiled. "Later?" he asked. "I just for once want to see your face when you come."

"Oh." Tom's hips stuttered into Chris' and he closed his eyes. "You seem to have a pretty good idea what you want," he said, kissing him again. "Do you want to take the lead?"

"Okay." Chris rolled them over, pinning Tom under him. 

His weight was such a relief. "I love when you do that," Tom said, straining up. "You feel so solid and strong and... oh."

"I like it when you squirm under me, too," Chris said, smirking. "All that straining and begging."

"Who's beg... oh, okay." Tom laughed. He let his hands run down Chris' back, sighing with pleasure at the strength he could feel under his fingertips, the way Chris' ass bulged and relaxed under his fingers. "Damn it, you're so hot, Chris."

"Uh-huh." Chris began to move with a little more purpose, his cock rubbing insistently against the most sensitive spot on Tom's.

Tom finally made use of his long arms and let his hands trail down the back of Chris' legs as far as he could, then back up the inside, causing Chris to choke out a moan. "Lube me up," he requested, holding out a hand, not even looking up, just waiting for Chris to find the tube in question and squirt some on his fingers. "Okay, that's an interesting scent."

"Something something excotic," Chris moaned, his powerful body moving on Tom's. "Where's this going?"

"Not quite _there_ , yet, relax." Tom smiled at him. He brought his hand down to between Chris' legs, using the lube to caress Chris' balls, letting them slip through his fingers gently while Chris was slowly losing control on top of him. He settled on rubbing over his perineum, imagining what finally directly stimulating his prostrate would do to Chris. Chris pushed his hips down on him hard and Tom cried out, all thoughts of might-be's suddenly forgotten. Chris raised himself on his arms and started working Tom's hardened nipples, running his tongue roughly over one, running his fingers over the other, then switched, sucking roughly, pinching with his hand. "Jesus, Chris!" He pushed deep against Chris' sweet spot, rubbing it insistently, and Chris rose on his hands, now moving into him in earnest.

"Tom, I love you."

Tom's eyes swiveled upwards, concentrating on his lover.

"Don't ever leave me again."

"No." Tom wrapped his legs around Chris' hips, giving him leverage to ride him as he liked. "I won't go anywhere, Chris, I swear."

"I love you so much." Tom could feel Chris' cock jump as his hips jerked into him.

"I love you, too, never doubt that, I'm not going anywhere." So they were coming full circle. "I love you, Chris."

"Don't go," Chris strained. "Oh god, don't go." His movement became insistent, he was clearly straining towards his orgasm as his hips pumped and worked.

"I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here, not going... god... any... fuck, Chris... going anywhere. Chris... Chris... oh my god... I love you... please believe me... love you so much... love you sooo much... Chris... yes... oh yes... please... Oh my God!" He exploded, both of them coming at the same time, crying out, their voices mingling as they reached orgasm. Chris came violently onto his stomach, each pump accompanied by Chris tensing and releasing, over and over again, his cries slowly easing into mere jerks and whimpers, their sweat-soaked brows pressed together as they were riding out the aftershocks.

"Not going anywhere," Tom whispered. "Chris, I swear. I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours. Always yours."

"G... good," Chris finally exhaled, nuzzling into Tom's neck, his hands contracting around his shoulders. "Don't go."

"No, sweetheart. Not going anywhere. I swear." 

And he realized, it would take time. But that was okay. They now had plenty. 

Hopefully, a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, sweeties! This is definitely not a sleepover any more. Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback, follows, kudos and comments. I've loved writing this, and I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
> 
> Thank you for making my return to fiction writing such a pleasure. I owe you all. Loads.


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